


A Step Back in Time

by shadowsamurai



Category: Foyle's War, Inspector Lynley Mysteries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Romance, Subtext
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 10:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 32,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A curious twist of fate brings Foyle and Sam in contact with two highly unusual people. And, of course, there is a mystery to solve. Not to mention solving the problem of getting their two 'guests' home again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers up to and including Season 6 for Foyle's War and Inspector Lynley.
> 
> Story is set after Foyle's War Season 6, Episode 2, 'Broken Souls', but before Episode 3, 'All Clear'; and after Inspector Lynley Season 6, Episode 1, 'Limbo', but before Episode 2, 'Know Thine Enemy'. You'll have to forgive me as I haven't seen 'Broken Souls' and I only saw 'Limbo' once, so if certain things don't quite match up with the series', I apologise. This story follows straight on from 'Limbo', but is a few days after 'Broken Souls'. That should work, I hope!
> 
> Also, very little plot, more of a character driven story.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing things for a while and I promise I'll put everything back exactly how I found it when I've finished. Well, almost exactly how I found it. ;)

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Foyle glanced around his office, checking he had everything he needed and had done everything he had to do. He found himself incredibly glad to be finishing work, for a change, although he still wasn't comfortable with going home to an empty house.

Milner and Sam had already left for the night, as had most of the other officers, and the only person left was the night sergeant. Foyle nodded to him as he left, making sure his hat was firmly on his head before stepping out into the evening.

"Sam?" Foyle said, stopping at the top of the stairs.

"Oh, hello, sir," Sam replied with a smile.

"Are you, er, waiting for someone?" he asked, noting how she was hovering around the Wolesley.

Sam blushed and shuffled her feet slightly. "Well, yes, actually, sir."

Foyle nodded once. "I see. Er, who, if I might ask?"

"Well, you, sir, actually. I thought you might want me to drive you home."

"That's very kind of you, Sam, but I'm quite capable of walking."

"I never said that you weren't, sir," she replied quickly. "I just that…well…never mind, sir. I'll see you in the morning."

Foyle frowned. "Is everything alright, Sam?"

"Oh, tickety-boo, sir," she said as she climbed into the car. "See you tomorrow."

"Not so fast, Miss Stewart." Foyle moved quickly to stand in front of the car.

Sam looked agitated. "Please move, sir. I'd hate to have to explain to Sergeant Milner how I managed to run you over."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," he replied.

"Nothing, sir."

"I know 'nothing', Sam, and that isn't it," Foyle said gently.

Sam sighed and sat back in her seat. "Well, I just thought you might like some company, sir."

"I see."

"The war seems to be getting to you too now, and I just thought…."

"I would like some company," Foyle finished for her. "Quite."

"It was a stupid idea, sir, I'm sorry," Sam said.

"Sam."

"Yes, sir?"

"Be quiet and drive me home."

Sam grinned. "I can manage the latter easily, sir, but I'm not sure about the former."

"Two out of three isn't bad, I suppose," Foyle replied dryly as he got into the car.

"Isn't that the name of a song, sir?"

Foyle gave her a strange look. "Certainly not one I've ever heard."

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

After a dramatic arrest mid-bridge, Lynley had walked back to his car with his arm still around Havers. Neither questioned the closeness; it was just there, to be enjoyed as long as it lasted.

"How are you holding up, sir?" Havers asked eventually.

"If you ask me that one more time…," Lynley replied.

Havers just looked at him. "You'll what, sir?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Never mind."

"Wuss."

Lynley stopped dead, his arm falling away from her shoulders. "I beg your pardon, Sergeant?"

Havers turned to look at him. "You heard me, sir. I called you a wuss." There was a slight challenge in her voice, in the way she raised her chin to look at him.

"I'm not sure I like your tone, Constable."

Havers laughed. "Threatening to demote me, sir? Been there, done that, wore the uniform."

"You really can be most disagreeable at times, Havers, do you know that?"

"Yes, sir, you tell me frequently. So, are you going to answer my question or not?"

"Which was…?"

"How are you holding up?"

Havers wasn't prepared for the speed at which Lynley moved, his arms outstretched for her sides, nor was she prepared for the feel of his fingers tickling her. Her hesitation was her downfall; Lynley soon had her screaming for mercy.

"Give in, Sergeant?" he asked, grinning.

"Yes, sir, I give in!" Havers shouted back through the laughter.

"Good." He let go and helped her straighten up. "In answer to your question, I'm fine, thank you for asking."

"Good," she repeated.

"And thank you for not giving up on me, Barbara," Lynley said quietly. "Even though I was difficult."

Havers looked at him in disbelief. "Difficult, sir? That's being generous, isn't it?"

"Alright, so I was an absolute bastard," he admitted. "But with good reason."

"Yeah, I know," Havers replied before shaking her head. "I just wish you'd let me help."

"You did," Lynley told her. "Besides, there wasn't much else you could have done."

"And now, sir?"

Lynley smiled. "And now, Sergeant, I think we should celebrate. Would you like to go for something to eat?"

Havers rolled her eyes. "You know what they say, sir; ask a daft question…."

"And you'll get a daft answer. Yes, I realised that after I'd spoken. So, where do you want to go?" Lynley asked.

"You're letting me choose?" Havers replied in surprise, and he nodded. "Well, I'm tempted to say the most expensive…." Lynley glared. "…But I'll stick with the local fish and chip shop."

"Fish and chips it is then."

They never even made it to Lynley's car. A tremor passed through the ground beneath them and before either one had time to question what was going on, there was a huge explosion. Lynley and Havers were hurled into the air and thrown metres apart, both unconscious before they hit the ground.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Once seated comfortably in the car, Foyle had pulled his hat partly over his face, settling into a semi-comatose state while his driver chattered incessantly. He often wondered how she managed to stay so cheerful from first thing in the morning to last thing at night. Foyle had, of course, seen Sam looking a little more than worse for wear, but nothing ever seemed to dampen her spirits completely, and while he would never admit it out loud - unless under severe duress - she had helped him survive the war. Foyle was almost certain Milner would say the same thing; Sam was the proverbial ball of sunshine that brightened up the police station no end, and the policeman knew he would miss her when the war ended. Sam would no doubt move back to her parents' house, although Foyle knew she wanted to stay in Hastings. And Milner would be leaving as well, hopefully; it would be nothing short of criminal if he didn't receive his well-deserved promotion to Inspector.

"I'm sorry, sir, am I boring you?"

Sam voice cut through Foyle's reverie like a hot knife through butter. *'A poor analogy,'* the policeman chided himself. Out loud, he just said, "Hmm?"

"I've been talking almost non-stop since we left the station, sir, and you haven't even given me so much as a 'hmm'."

"Sorry, Sam, I was just, erm, thinking."

"Really, sir?"

It was clear from her tone that she wanted to know what exactly was going on inside his head, but Foyle certainly wasn't about to tell her. Not the whole truth, anyway.

"How things will be after the war ends. After all, it can't go on forever, can it?" he replied.

Sam shook her head vigorously. "I certainly hope not, sir. I'm being to get jolly tired of tea without sugar."

"Hmm, quite."

"So, how do you think things will be, sir?" Sam asked after a short pause.

"I hope Sergeant Milner will become Inspector, and as the police station in Hastings is closing down, he will inevitable have to move," Foyle replied. "I shall go back to my retirement…."

"Which you'll hate," Sam muttered.

Foyle ignored her. "And you, Sam…I haven't decided where you might go yet, or what you'll do."

His driver risked a quick glance at him, but there wasn't much to be seen between the hat and the collar of his coat. "You don't know or you're not sure, sir?"

"Well, I know your parents want you to go back home."

"Yes. Perhaps I'll become a nun."

Foyle smiled. "Somehow the hat doesn't fit, Sam," he said, his tone almost fond. "I know you don't want to go home, but realistically, if you stay in Hastings, what will you do? And where would you stay?"

Sam never had a chance to reply, not that she was sure what to say anyway. The sirens sounded, plane engines could be heard overhead, and before either of them could react, there was the telltale whistle as bombs were dropped.

Sam quickly stopped the car, having the sense to turn the wheel right round first so they headed away from the blast instead of into it.

Both waited silently for something else to happen; they had seen more than one bomb land, but so far only one had exploded. The quiet sound of breathing and the rapid, dull thudding of heartbeats filled the vehicle and thankfully, no other noise was heard..

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Havers groaned and opened her eyes, blinking rapidly several times as they filled with dust. She tried to move and found there was no part of her that didn't hurt, so she groaned some more, louder this time.

*'What the hell happened?'* she thought as she tried to remember.

Then she heard a noise close by, a man grunting as he regained consciousness. "Ouch."

"Sir?"

"Havers?" Lynley said quietly.

"Yes, sir. Are you okay?"

"Are you?" Lynley countered.

Havers grimaced. "Yeah, apart from having a building falling on me, I'm fine…." She suddenly trailed off as she realised what she had said. "Erm, we weren't in a building, were we, sir?"

"No, we weren't," Lynley replied. "But it would appear one fell on us anyway."

"Really?" Havers muttered sarcastically. "How inconsiderate of it."

If Lynley heard her, he chose to ignore her. "Can you move? Are you seriously injured?"

Despite herself, Havers smiled at the evident concern in his voice. "I'm fine, sir. At least I think I am. How about you?"

"Surprisingly uninjured, I think. Let's see if we can get out of this, shall we?"

"You do that, sir. I'll yell for help."

Lynley gave a small smile. "And if that doesn't bring anyone running, Sergeant, nothing will."

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

"Are you alright, Sam?" Foyle asked quietly some time later.

Sam nodded. "I think so, sir. A little shaken, but I'll live. Are you…?"

"I'm fine, Sam. Shaken too," Foyle admitted, "But I'll live."

"Good. Jolly close, wasn't it?"

"Hmm, very." Foyle worried at his lip. "Too close for my liking."

Sam nodded fervently. "And mine, sir."

"I think we'd better get going, Sam. I don't want to be here if the Germans decide to make a round trip."

"I agree, sir," his driver replied, putting the car into gear and setting off a little more quickly than normal. But they hadn't got very far before she braked again suddenly.

"What the…!" Foyle exclaimed, but he never received an answer as his driver had got out of the car and was running towards a building that had been demolished by the bomb. "Sam!"

Sam turned. "I saw movement, sir!" She then put her head slightly on one side. "And I can hear someone shouting!"

Foyle quickly pushed his hat firmly on his head, opened the door and jogged after his driver. "Where?" he asked.

Sam listened intently. "There, sir," she replied, pointing to a low pile of rubble.

"Help!" Havers yelled.

"Keep still, we'll get you out," Foyle shouted back.

"I'm surprised, Havers," Lynley murmured. "It worked."

"Of course it worked, sir, it was my idea," Havers retorted.

Lynley gave her 'the look' even though she couldn't see it. "Let's not go there, shall we?"

"How many of you are down there?" Sam asked.

"Just us two," Havers replied before adding, "I think."

"Can you move?" Foyle asked.

"Yeah, a little."

Foyle nodded. "Good. Can you clear any of the rubble from that side?"

"What do you think I've been trying to do?" Havers replied shortly.

Sam looked at Foyle, her eyebrows raised in shock, but before either could say anything, a male voice said, "Now, Havers, be nice. These people might just decide to leave us here if you don't behave."

"I can assure you that won't happen," Foyle told them.

"Thank you," Lynley replied sincerely.

With a little effort, Foyle and Sam managed to clear enough rubble so that Lynley and Havers could crawl out. "Finally," the Sergeant muttered.

Lynley stepped forward to shake Foyle's hand. "Thank you for your assistance. I'm not quite sure what happened."

But Foyle was staring at Lynley with a look of uncertainty. While they were all covered in dust, the older policeman could tell something wasn't quite right about the pair stood in front of him.

"Erm, you were caught in a raid, sir," Foyle replied. "Obviously you didn't have time to get to a shelter."

Havers was starting. "A raid? As in bombs dropping from the sky?"

"Of course. What else would we mean?" Sam said quickly, leaping to her boss's defence.

Lynley quickly took stock of the situation; the speech, the clothes, the surroundings, and came to a startling conclusion. "I'm sorry, my companion must be concussed." He put a hand on Havers' shoulder, squeezing it slightly. "Please forgive her rudeness. She isn't normally like this."

Foyle smiled briefly. "That's quite alright."

"Your kindness is appreciated," Lynley replied. "Now we must be going."

"Ah, I'm afraid I can't let you go."

"Why not?" Havers asked.

"Because your clothes and your speech indicate you're not from around here. In fact, I don't know where you're from," Foyle told her. "And you had no idea about the raid, which makes me very suspicious."

"You could be spies for all we know," Sam added.

Foyle glared at her. "Yes. Quite. I'm afraid I have to take you to the police station until I can ascertain your motives."

"I understand completely," Lynley replied, his hand gripping Havers' shoulder a little more tightly. "Shall we?"

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

"Now are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?" Havers snapped.

"Keep your voice down," Lynley said calmly.

"Well? Are you going to tell me what's going on, and why I have bruises on my shoulder from your fingers?"

Lynley leant against a wall. "Use your head, Havers. What do think happened?"

"A building fell on us."

Lynley gave her a reproving look. "Think, Havers. The speech, the dress, the impending victory that will stop the bombs from dropping…." He gave it a moment before sighing and shaking his head. "We're still in England, but somehow we've been 'transported' back in time. I'd say it was the early 1940s."

Havers stared at him. "Are you sure you aren't hurt, sir? Concussion or something? I think you're hallucinating."

"And I think you're pushing the bounds of stubbornness too far, Sergeant," Lynley sharply.

"You're trying to tell me that we've travelled back in time, sir," Havers replied slowly, emphasising each word. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"

"Do you have another suggestion? Because I would *love* to hear it."

"Yeah, there was something other than salt on the fish and chips," Havers retorted.

Lynley shook his head and despite not really wanting to, he smiled. "Let's just say, Havers, that I am right…."

"For once."

"I heard that."

"You were supposed to," Havers said with a shrug.

Lynley ignored her and carried on. "Let's say I'm right, and we are back in World War Two. If that *is* the case, then we need to be extremely careful. We can't say or do anything that will upset the continuity of time."

"Hasn't it already been disrupted, sir? I mean, we shouldn't be here," Havers pointed out.

"Very true, but there isn't anything we can do about that now, so we just have to try and be inconspicuous."

Havers stared again. "You're being funny."

"Not particularly."

"Well, you might be alright in this…*era*, sir, but somehow I don't think I'm going to fit in very well."

"What do you mean, Sergeant?" Lynley asked.

"You know very well what I mean, sir. I am most definitely a modern woman."

Lynley tried not to smile. "You mean independent, not afraid to speak her might, doesn't take any crap from people, including her superiors…."

"That was politely put, sir."

"I'm always polite, Havers."

The Sergeant was suddenly overcome with a coughing fit, but Lynley was certain he caught the words, 'yeah, right', being uttered.

"Have you quite finished, Sergeant?" Lynley asked in a mild tone.

Havers nodded, her face straight. "Yes, sir. So, if you are right, what are we going to do exactly?"

"I think the first thing is to convince the policeman who found us that we're not German spies."

"Do you think he'll believe us?"

"I don't know, Havers," Lynley admitted, "But he looked like he's been doing this job for quite sometime, so his instincts should be good. I think we should rely on that."

"And by that you mean, 'Shut up and let me do the talking'," Havers said.

"I wouldn't have put it quite like that, Sergeant," Lynley replied.

Havers rolled her eyes. "Of course not, sir. You're the polite one, after all."

There was the sound of footsteps in the corridor, two sets, and then a key was put into the lock. Seconds later, the door swung open and Foyle stood there. "Thank you, Sergeant Brook."

"Will you be needing me any more, Mr Foyle?" Brookie asked.

"No, Sergeant. And remember what I said."

Brookie nodded. "Won't tell a soul, sir. Except for Sam."

"Hmm, quite." Foyle looked pointedly at the Sergeant until he nodded again and left. "I'm sorry, my manners deserted me when we first met," Foyle said to the pair in front of him. "I'm Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle."

"Pleased to meet you," Lynley replied, inclining his head.

"And you are…?"

Lynley smiled. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Chief Superintendent."

"Mr Foyle will do. I always find that titles are cumbersome at times," Foyle said.

"I agree," Havers muttered, glancing sideways at Lynley.

He gave her a reproving glare. "How broad-minded are you feeling, Mr Foyle?"

"That depends on what you want to tell me. May I?" Foyle asked, gesturing at the bed.

"Please."

"Thank you."

"We're not German spies, but even if we were, we'd say we weren't. We're from…a very long way away…."

"A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away," Havers muttered.

Foyle raised an eyebrow, glanced at the Sergeant, and then back at Lynley, who said, "I'm sorry, Mr Foyle. She does that a lot. I've grown used to it."

"That's quite alright. My driver tends to, ah, be quite verbose at times as well."

Havers grimaced. "Verbose?"

"Your driver?" Lynley said quickly.

"Yes, you've already met her. Samantha Stewart."

"Sam," Lynley confirmed and Foyle nodded. "If I may ask, sir, why tell us that? If we were spies…."

"I don't believe you are," Foyle replied. "There is something about your dress and your speech that doesn't quite fit with…with these surroundings. Your English is perfect and your accent is definitely genuine, which leads me to question perhaps not *where* you came from, but…*when*, exactly."

Lynley looked at Foyle sharply. "Do you actually believe that?"

"It isn't a question of whether I believe it or not, sir. I just think it is the most logical explanation. For now, at least," Foyle added.

Lynley then smiled. "I think we'll get along fine, sir."

"We would, except I don't know how to address you."

"Of course, please forgive me. I'm…Mr Lynley."

"Are you sure?" Foyle asked, slightly amused.

"We're police officers," Lynley admitted.

Foyle looked a little surprised. "Both of you?"

"Yes," Havers replied.

"I'm a Detective Inspector, and this is Detective Sergeant Havers," Lynley said.

"Pleased to meet you," Foyle replied, shaking the other man's hand and inclining his head towards Havers. "Now, let's see if we can find you more comfortable accommodation, shall we?"

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

"Mr Foyle's looking for you, Sam," Brookie said when he spotted the driver.

"Oh, really? I, er, I was sort of hoping I could go home now," Sam admitted.

Brookie smiled. "I don't think it'll take long. He's moving the…people you found earlier."

Sam looked surprised. "Really? Oh, right, well I'd better go and find him. Thanks, Brookie."

"I think the best thing would be for you to stay at my house, at least for now," Foyle was saying when there was a knock on the door. "Who is it?"

"It's me, sir. Sam."

Foyle gave a small smile. "Come in."

Sam entered the room and closed the door quickly behind her. She regarded the two strangers warily, but without fear. "Sergeant Brook said that you were looking for me, sir."

Foyle nodded. "I need you to drive us all to my house. Is that alright, Sam?"

Sam frowned slightly. "Your house, sir?"

"Yes. They can't stay here, and I think it's the best place for them." Foyle could see his driver wasn't happy about the situation, but he wasn't prepared to say any more until he knew there was no one else listening. "I'll explain later, Sam," he said gently.

Lynley noticed this was all the reassurance Sam needed as she nodded once and replied, "Righty-ho, sir. Shall we go?"

"Ah, is the car at the front?" Foyle asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Can you go first and make sure no one else is around, please?"

"What about Sergeant Brook?" Sam asked.

"Apart from him," Foyle replied.

"Alright, sir. Won't be a mo."

"She seems chirpy," Havers noted, and Foyle nodded in agreement.

"Not much fazes Miss Stewart," he admitted, the note of fondness in his voice not missed by the two other police officers.

"She appears quite mature," Lynley said. He knew it wasn't uncommon for the young men and women of this era to grow up far quicker than normal, but Sam's attitude surprised him.

Foyle nodded again. "Sam has been through quite a lot." For a moment, it seemed as though he was going to expand on his statement, but he closed his mouth and waited patiently for his driver to return.

"All clear, sir," Sam said, popping her head around the door.

"Good. Shall we?"

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

The journey to Foyle's house was made in silence, Lynley and Havers in the back, Foyle in his customary position in the passenger seat. When they arrived, Sam kept the engine running, but Foyle asked her to come in. Sam was hoping he might; she hoped it would lead to some answers.

"Let me show you the bedrooms and the bathroom," Foyle said, taking his hat and coat off before starting upstairs. "I'm afraid a change of clothes will have to wait until tomorrow."

"That's quite alright, Mr Foyle, we understand," Lynley replied.

Foyle noticed the woman, Havers, was very quiet, but he also had a hunch that it wasn't normal. Perhaps things were indeed very different in the future and she felt uncomfortable.

Foyle caught himself before he shook his head. He couldn't believe he was actually contemplating…*time travel* as the reason these two strangers had suddenly shown up, but he really couldn't think of any other explanation. Perhaps he was simply too tired to consider an alternative; he would think better in the morning.

"This is my son, Andrew's, room. You can stay here, Mr Lynley," Foyle said before turning to Havers and smiling. "You can sleep in my room, there."

Havers smiled back. "Thank you." She'd had a good deal of time to study the older policeman while her boss had done all the talking, and he seemed to be one of those rare people; genuinely kind, caring and considerate, although he did his best not to show it.

"Right, I shall leave you alone. Good night."

"Excuse me, but where will you be sleeping?" Lynley asked.

"Downstairs. The couch is quite comfortable," Foyle replied.

Lynley frowned and shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't allow that. Please, let me sleep downstairs."

"This is my house and you are my guests," Foyle said firmly before adding, "Besides, I'll feel safer knowing that you're both upstairs."

Havers caught the twinkle in his eye and gave a small laugh. "I wouldn't dream of killing anybody, sir, until after breakfast," she told Foyle.

"Ah, yes. Havers work off her stomach," Lynley added.

"So does Sam. It's not unusual. Good night."

Foyle found Sam stood in his living room, her driver's hat held in both hands. At least she wasn't pacing; the policeman half expected her to be. Patience was definitely not one of her strong points.

"I'm sorry to keep you up so late, Sam," Foyle said as he entered the room. "Would you like a drink?"

"No, sir, thank you."

"You're wondering why I let them stay here."

"Well…yes, sir. I mean, isn't it awfully dangerous. They *could* be spies, after all," Sam burst out.

"Yes, they could," Foyle admitted.

Sam looked at him. "But you don't think they are."

"No, I don't."

"But why, sir?"

Foyle removed his jacket and poured himself a scotch. "Their clothes are unlike anything I've ever seen, even from the Americans, and their accents are far too genuine."

"Perhaps they're English spies working for the Jerries, sir," Sam pointed out. "After all, it wouldn't be the first time."

"No, it wouldn't, but it doesn't seem to fit. When we rescued them, the woman, Havers, was genuinely confused. She had no idea that we were in the middle of a war."

"Havers?" Sam repeated, a slightly sceptical note in her voice.

Foyle smiled slightly. "Yes, and the man with her is called Mr Lynley."

"Lynley, sir?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I'm sure I know that name from somewhere," Sam said thoughtfully.

Foyle looked mildly interested. "Hmm. If you remember, please tell me."

"Of course, sir." Sam glanced casually at the clock, but the policeman saw her.

"Go home, Sam. I'll see you tomorrow."

Sam smiled sheepishly. "Right, sir. See you tomorrow."

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

"I think I believe you now, sir," Havers said glumly, staring at the blankets on the bed and then looking at the thick blackout curtains.

Lynley smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. "It's not all bad, Sergeant."

"That sort of depends on your definition of 'bad', doesn't it?" she replied.

"Very true." Lynley let go and sat down.

After a while, Havers sat next to him, the gap between them so minimal that a piece of paper would have found it difficult to pass through. "How did this happen, sir?" Havers asked quietly.

Lynley laughed. "I don't know, Sergeant. I don't know."

"So we don't know how we're going to get back."

"No, we don't."

"If we can get back at all," Havers murmured.

Lynley put his arm around her shoulders again and squeezed. "We'll get home, Barbara. One way or another, we'll get there."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Foyle slept poorly that night for many reasons. Firstly, his peculiar visitors were understandably restless and one of them - he reasoned it was Havers - kept pacing. Foyle only hoped they had the sense to keep the blackout curtains closed if they had the light on.

Second, the manner in which his visitors had arrived in…his *time* preoccupied Foyle as he tried to understand how such a thing could have happened.

Thirdly, Foyle was worrying about disguises for the two displaced police officers. He was certain nothing of his would fit Lynley, and Andrew had left very few clothes at home. Sergeant Milner was probably the best fit, but Foyle was unsure whether he should tell his junior officer the truth or not. As for Havers, Foyle thought one of Sam's uniforms would have to suffice, though he suspected the policewoman would not be happy about it.

But that wasn't the only problem; he hadn't asked Sam to bring any clothes the next day, or even mentioned to her about disguising his visitors, and he wasn't sure he could afford the time in the morning to sort it all out.

Fourth, lastly, and probably most importantly, Foyle found his couch extremely uncomfortable to sleep on.

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Havers forced her eyes open as she woke up. Even though it was still dark, the policewoman felt it wasn't early. For only the briefest of seconds, she thought she had dreamt the bizarre incident yesterday, but stretching an arm out of bed, Havers felt the covers and groaned.

It was no dream. It was real. Somehow, some-bloody-how, she and Lynley had gone from 'now' to 'then', and not even a decent - in Havers' mind - 'then'. No, it was World War II.

Havers stretched and yawned before throwing the covers off and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She had slept poorly, which was nothing new, but at least this time she knew why. She had spent half the night listening to Lynley across the hall pacing, and from downstairs, she could hear Foyle tossing and turning.

Now there was an enigma. Everybody thought that Lynley was calm and well-balanced, but Havers had seen him lose his temper one too many times to hold on to that illusion. Foyle, however, seemed to be in complete control of himself all the time. Perhaps it was his age, perhaps it was the war, but whatever the reason, Havers felt as though the older policeman would be the voice of reason in any circumstances.

Of course, because nobody is perfect, Foyle looked as though he had no idea how to lighten up. While Havers' instincts were not as good as Lynley as times, she suspected Foyle had been through the mill, as it were, one way or another.

But then again, it seemed his driver, Sam, had as well. And Lynley hadn't had it easy really. And neither had she.

Havers gave a small, harsh laugh and shook her head. She was definitely going to need serious therapy after all of this.

Standing, she crossed the room and opened the door, intent on getting into the bathroom before anyone else. Unfortunately, Havers was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she marched headlong into someone.

"Oh, sorry, sir," she said. "I was just…." Havers trailed off. She thought it was Lynley she had run into, but instead she came face-to-face with softer eyes.

"That's alright," Foyle replied. "I was just putting towels out for you. I'm afraid that, er, there is little in the way of, er, cleaning…products."

"That's okay, I'm sure I'll manage," Havers said with a smile. "Thank you."

Foyle nodded. "I was putting the kettle on for some tea. Would you like some?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice."

"No sugar, I'm afraid."

Havers nodded in understanding. "Rationing, right?"

"Yes. And the milk is powdered."

"As long as it's warm, wet and tastes like tea, it's fine with me," Havers replied.

Foyle nodded. "Right. I'll be downstairs when you've finished."

"Was that our host I just heard?" Lynley asked, opening the bedroom door just as Foyle reached the bottom of the stairs.

Havers nodded. "He's given us these towels and there'll be a pot of tea waiting downstairs for us when we're ready."

Lynley narrowed his eyes slightly as he studied his sergeant. "You like him, don't you."

Havers shrugged. "He seems nice."

"And?"

Havers looked away and Lynley knew she was embarrassed. "And…he reminds me of my dad, alright?"

Lynley tried to suppress a grin, but it didn't quite work. "I'm sure he would be thrilled to hear that."

"Get knotted, sir," Havers replied, going into the bathroom and shutting the door with a little force.

Lynley let the grin out completely as he headed downstairs. "Good morning, Mr Foyle."

"Good morning," Foyle replied. "Disagreement?"

"Normality."

"Ah. Tea?"

"Thank you. Have you decided what you're going to do with us?" Lynley asked.

"Well, I'm almost certain you're not spies, which means that the only logical explanation is…time travel."

"I find it as hard to believe as you do," Lynley admitted, "But it seems to be, as you said, the only explanation."

"So why were you thrown back instead of us thrown forward?" Foyle asked.

Lynley spread his hands. "I'm not sure. Perhaps because we would be able to fit in better in your time than you would in ours."

"Perhaps."

"You're taking this awfully calmly, Mr Foyle," Lynley said.

It wasn't an accusation, and Foyle didn't take it as such. "Please, call me Christopher. I know that I outrank you, but these aren't normal circumstances."

Lynley smiled in agreement. "No, they're not." He leant forward and held his hand out. "In that case, I'm Tommy."

"Tommy?" Foyle repeated, raising an eyebrow slightly.

Lynley gave a small laugh. "You're right, not appropriate. Thomas."

Foyle noted the way the other man grimaced slightly as he said his full name. It was obvious it wasn't used very often. "Pleased to meet you, Thomas."

"Is there any tea left?" Havers asked as she entered the room.

"Of course," Foyle replied with a smile, standing slightly as Havers sat down.

"Forgive me, Christopher, I seem to have forgotten my manners. This is Barbara. Barbara, Christopher," Lynley said.

"Pleasure," Foyle replied.

"Likewise, sir."

Foyle smiled slightly and nodded. "I think it's best if we keep using some form of address."

"That's what I thought," Havers said. She ignored the strange sidelong glance Lynley gave her; she was focussing on the older policeman. There was a second where Foyle's 'mask' cracked and that was when Lynley had told him her name. Havers didn't think her boss had noticed, but she had, for a change. She hoped it wouldn't cause too much trouble; already, she rather liked Foyle and the last thing she wanted was to upset him.

"Ah, excuse me," Foyle said as he heard a knock on the front door, standing and heading into the hall.

"This should be an interesting day, don't you think?" Lynley murmured, and Havers could only nod in reply.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise that Havers would probably not fit in one of Sam's uniforms, but this is fanfic so for the sake of this story, let's pretend she would. ;)

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Sam noticed that Foyle looked mildly surprised when he opened the front door of his house, and she tried not to look too smug about it.

"Good morning, sir," she said brightly, smiling instead.

"Er, morning, Sam. Sergeant," Foyle replied.

"Sir," Milner said, nodding slightly.

"Er, what are you doing here?" Foyle asked.

"Well, sir, I got to thinking when I was on my way home last night," Sam started quickly, "that your, erm, guests would need clothes, and Mr Lynley is quite tall and broad in the shoulders, sir, and I didn't think any of your clothes would fit him…."

Foyle managed to look mildly offended instead of amused. "Thank you, Sam."

Sam blushed. "Sorry, sir, I didn't mean…. Anyway, I thought some of Sergeant Milner's clothes would fit, or if Andrew has any clothing at home they could do. And I thought that Miss Havers could use one of my spare uniforms." She then pulled a face. "Actually, sir, it's my only spare, which could be a problem."

"Have you finished, Sam?"

"Ah, yes, sir."

"Good, then perhaps we could have this conversation inside, instead of on my doorstep?" Foyle suggested. "We don't want the neighbours to gossip any more than they do already."

Sam looked very sheepish. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

Foyle just nodded and stood to one side to allow his driver and his sergeant entrance to his house. The older policeman noticed a smile on Milner's face as he passed, and he knew why. They would both miss Sam, and each other, a great deal once the war was over, though neither man would ever admit it.

"If you wait in the living room, I'll give these clothes to my…guests," Foyle said, passing Sam and Milner in the hall and taking the bags off them.

Milner took his hat off. "Right, sir."

"Has Sam, er, advised you of the situation?" Foyle asked, his tone slightly wary.

"No, sir."

That did surprise Foyle. "Really?"

Unfortunately, he forgot that Sam was stood less than two feet away from him, and she looked very affronted.

"I *can* keep a secret, sir," she said defensively.

Foyle hesitated before replying, "Of course you can, Sam. Excuse me."

In the kitchen, Havers was trying not to laugh. "She doesn't let him get away with much, does she?"

"Which is why I think you and Miss Stewart will get on like a house on fire," Lynley replied.

"I thought people of this era were supposed to be, well, stuffy," Havers said quietly.

Lynley looked at her reprovingly. "The term is 'correct', Havers. They act in a proper manner, that's all."

"You mean like you?"

"Are you calling me stuffy?" he asked.

Any further playground insults were stopped by Foyle's entrance to the kitchen. "Sam and my sergeant, Paul Milner, are here. They brought some clothes. This should fit you, Miss Havers," he said. "It's one of Sam's uniforms."

Havers pulled a face. "Okay, one, please don't call me Miss unless you absolutely have to. My name is Barbara; you can use that." Foyle raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "Secondly," she continued, "I am not wearing *that*."

"Why not?" Foyle asked.

"You even have to ask?" Havers shook her head. "It's a hideous colour and it's got a *skirt*. No way am I wearing that."

"Please thank Miss Stewart for us," Lynley said, glaring at Havers. "This is very kind of her. I'll make sure my sergeant takes good care of the uniform, but will Miss Stewart be able to manage with just one?"

"Yes, I'm sure she will," Foyle replied, unfazed by the other policeman's quick deductions. "These are for you, from *my* sergeant. You can also use some of the clothes in the wardrobe of the bedroom you slept in. They are my son's."

Lynley took the two bags and inclined his head. "Thank you, sir…Christopher. Your generosity and understanding is very much appreciated. Come on, Havers. Let's give the man some peace and quiet for a while."

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Milner stood up as soon as Foyle came into the living room. "Is everything alright, sir?"

"Er, that depends on your definition of 'alright', Sergeant," Foyle replied. "Please, sit down. Now, I'm glad Sam hasn't told you anything as it makes things easier. By keeping you in the dark, Sergeant, it does not mean I don't trust you."

But Milner nodded quickly. "When asked, I don't have to lie, sir. I understand. As long as there's no danger."

"There isn't," Foyle reassured him. "At least, I don't think there is. For now, let me say that we rescued two people yesterday. I do not believe they are spies, but I'm not certain yet. They are staying here because they are…different."

"I understand, sir. Is there anything else?" Milner asked.

Foyle shook his head slowly. "Not really, Sergeant. Except when I introduce them to you, I want you to follow…the story. If anybody asks questions, and you give them answers, make sure you give me the same answers."

Milner smiled. "Understood, sir." He stood. "I take it you'll be late this morning?"

"Quite possibly, Sergeant."

"Right, sir. I'll let myself out. Bye, Sam."

Sam smiled. "Goodbye, Sergeant."

"Tea, Sam?" Foyle asked.

His driver shook her head. "No, thank you. Sir, you told Sergeant Milner that you don't believe they are spies…."

Foyle nodded. "I don't, but I could be wrong." He worried his lip a little. "As you and I are going to spending the most time around them, I will tell you what I think. Then you can decide what you believe."

"Like a puzzle? Oh, jolly good, sir," Sam replied, her eyes shining with enthusiasm.

"Mmm, quite." Foyle stood up and walked to the window. "Their clothes, mannerisms, speech…everything about these two people suggests to me that they are from 'when' not 'where'."

Sam frowned. "I don't understand, sir."

"What do you imagine the future is like, Sam?" Foyle asked quietly.

"I haven't really thought about it, sir."

"Things cannot stay the same," Foyle continued. "Progression is inevitable."

"Do you think that they are…from the…future, sir?" Sam asked incredulously. "But that's impossible!"

"Is it?"

"Of course, sir."

Foyle's expression was distant. "Hmm, we'll see."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Upstairs, Lynley was pulling on a pair of Milner's trousers, wondering how best to convince Foyle that they were not spies, but without upsetting the balance of time. And he was worrying how on earth they were going to get back to their time; being caught in a bomb explosion was not his idea of fun.

Which brought Lynley's thoughts to how they reached 'now'. The ground had shook, he remembered that. He and Havers were thrown to the floor and then…blackout. Had there been an earthquake? Unlikely in London, but it was the only explanation he could come up with.

Milner's shirts were slightly longer in the body than Lynley was used to, and it had been a long time since he had worn a waistcoat, but when he'd finished dressing, he realised he looked quite smart, and he couldn't remember for the life of him the last time he had worn a suit. Milner had also put in an overcoat and a trilby; the childish side of Lynley was overjoyed at playing dress-up. The dark suit and hat would make him look like a gangster.

The clothes in the wardrobe, which Foyle said belonged to his son, would be fine for evening, as they were mostly casual trousers and jumpers.

Across the hall, Lynley could hear Havers grumbling to herself, and while he found the situation amusing, he also felt sorry for her. He knew she had worked hard to get to were she was in life, and now she had been wrenched from her comfort zone. He could cope in this time; after all, he was 'upper class', which meant stuffy, of course. But Havers…Havers was going to find this very difficult.

That, though, did not completely excuse her behaviour and Lynley steeled himself as he went out to talk to her.

"Havers, are you decent?" he asked, knocking on the door.

"In this outfit? What do you think?" she retorted.

Lynley tried not to smile or roll his eyes, but ended up doing both. "Let me rephrase that; may I come in?"

"Are you holding jeans and a sweater?"

"Of course not."

"Then go away."

Shaking his head, Lynley opened the door, stepped into the room and shut it again quickly. He thought his first impression would be to laugh at his sergeant in a brown driver's uniform, but when he saw Havers, he found he couldn't speak.

Havers glared at him. "Go on, say it. I look ridiculous."

Lynley, however, did not agree. The jacket fitted very well, and with the flat shoes and knee-length skirt, Havers looked quite feminine. Not that she didn't always, but this was something different. "I wouldn't say that," he said eventually. "Admittedly, brown is not your colour, but it's not that bad."

Havers was going to snap back but the sight of her boss in a suit that fitted him very well banished all retorts from her mind. "I'm just glad no one I know can see me," she replied after a while.

"No, but their ancestors might."

"One more comment…," Havers threatened him.

Lynley held his hands up in surrender. "May I?" he asked, gesturing the bed, and Havers was reminded of Foyle back in the police cell.

"If you have to."

Lynley ignored her. "I think we're going to have to convince Mr Foyle that we're definitely not spies, but I'm not sure what we can do."

"Without causing trouble, you mean," Havers said, sitting next to him. "Well, show him some money."

"With the Queen's head on it?" Lynley asked, amused.

"Then you explain that in seven years time, Elizabeth will be crowned Queen, and that right now, she's doing her bit for the war as a driver and mechanic," Havers replied with a shrug.

Lynley now looked shocked. "How do you know that?"

"I'm not completely stupid, sir."

"I never said you were. I just didn't think that the royal family was one of your interests."

"They're not, but history is," Havers told him.

Lynley smiled. "See? You do learn something new every day." He stood and adjusted his suit. "Shall we?"

Havers scowled. "If we have to."

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

"Did you remember where you had heard the name Lynley before?" Foyle asked, sitting back down.

Sam's face lit up. "Yes, sir, I did."

"Excuse me, I hope we're not interrupting," Lynley said, looking around the doorway.

"Of course not. Please," Foyle replied, gesturing for him to enter the room.

Lynley smiled. "Thank you." As he made his way across the floor, he took a good look at Sam again, almost like he was seeing her for the first time. She was indeed very young, and while the war had aged her, she hadn't lost her youth. She looked as though she knew how to have fun and how to laugh, and Lynley suspected she brightened the police station up quite a lot.

Foyle was also watching Sam, but for different reasons. She was staring at the other policeman in shock, but there was a pinkish tinge coming to her cheeks that suggested she was embarrassed by something, and Foyle suspected it was her own thoughts. He admitted Lynley did look different in a suit; he looked like he belonged now. But Sam was looking at him with something akin to awe, and Foyle found himself feeling a little jealous.

Havers followed Lynley into the room, and the first thing she noticed was Sam. It was difficult not to notice the other woman, as her eyes never left Havers' boss. While it might not have been appropriate to look that way in this era, Havers recognised the expression; it was the one that said, 'I want, I want, I want', whether Sam realised it or not. Havers wanted to be jealous, but too much had happened between her and Lynley for that feeling to surface.

Lynley noticed Foyle watched Sam and he wondered if the older policeman was aware how much information he was actually giving away. Lynley had no doubt that Foyle had convinced himself to think of Sam as a daughter and nothing else, but his eyes were saying something completely different. There was jealousy there, as well as protectiveness.

Foyle's eyes were drawn from Sam as soon as Havers walked into the room, and then it was his turn to stare. The colour did not suit her at all, but then again, he didn't know many people who looked good in brown. The uniform made Havers look like a different person; now she also looked like she belonged, although her attitude and her mannerisms would be more difficult to disguise, and there was slight vulnerability there as well. Foyle knew Havers was different to anybody he would ever meet in his life, and he was curious about her. For the first time in a long time, he found he wanted to know more about her.

Sam finally tore her eyes off Lynley to see Foyle staring at Havers, and she took an immediate dislike to the other woman for taking so much of Foyle's attention.

Havers saw Lynley looking at Foyle, and she was amused and a little surprised to see he was jealous, though she didn't think he realised it.

Foyle realised he was staring and as he turned away, his keen senses picked up a developing atmosphere in the room. "Well, you both look, er, the part now, shall we say?"

"Let's hope we can act the part," Lynley replied.

"I was thinking that perhaps a simple story would be the best one," Foyle said.

"Such as?" Havers asked.

"Such as a policeman and his driver," Foyle told her. "I don't have a town for you yet, though."

"We could use Asherton," Lynley suggested. "It's near Cornwall. I have…family there."

Sam's eyes went very wide and Foyle looked at her in concern. "Sam? Are you alright?"

"Tickety boo, sir," she replied nodding. "That was what I was going to tell you before."

"Before?"

"Yes, sir, before they…sorry, before Mr Lynley and Miss Havers came into the room. I recognised Mr Lynley's name from an old friend who lived in Cornwall. Asherton has an Earl, and the family name is Lynley," Sam explained.

"Do you know who the current Earl is? No, don't tell me," Lynley said quickly.

Sam nodded. "I do, sir."

"His name is William. He's my grandfather," Lynley stated. "His wife, Catherine, died giving birth to my uncle, George, in nineteen…sorry…." He paused as he thought. "Last year."

"Is that right, Sam?" Foyle asked in a mild voice.

"Spot on, sir," Sam replied in an awed voice.

Havers leant forward. "This is what passes for money in our time." She handed Foyle a ten pound note.

"Who's that?" Sam asked, frowning and pointing to the face on the note.

"It is Princess Elizabeth," Foyle replied, his voice shaking slightly. "She became Queen?"

Havers nodded. "In seven years from now, she'll be crowned Elizabeth II."

Foyle handed the note back. "If you are spies, then we have no hope of winning the war at all."

"Would you like me to tell you the exact date the war will end?" Lynley asked, a twinkle in his eye. "Or should I just give you the month?"

"Neither, thank you," Foyle replied. "I have to go to work now, and you cannot stay here."

Before Lynley could respond, Havers nodded. "We understand. Shall we?"

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

"I think I've found a hole in the story," Havers stated as they drove to the police station.

Foyle turned around in the passenger seat to look at her. "Go on."

"Well, if Inspector Lynley is supposed to be from Asherton, and I'm supposed to be his driver…well, one, we need a car, and two, we need a reason to be here," Havers replied.

"Hmm," Foyle said.

Havers stared at him. "That's not an answer, sir."

"He does that a lot, Miss Havers. You'll get used to it," Sam told her.

"Thank you, Miss Stewart, that will do," Foyle reprimanded her.

"Sorry, sir," Sam replied, though she didn't sound it.

"It's Barbara to you, Sam. Can I call you Sam?" Havers asked.

Sam shrugged. "If you like."

Havers caught an undercurrent of hostility from the driver, and she had a good idea why, so she decided to try and win Sam over somehow.

"What would be a good reason for us to be in Hastings, Christopher?" Lynley asked.

"Tracking a spy?" Sam suggested. "After all, Cornwall is mostly coast, so a spy could have come ashore in a boat…."

"But why would he come to Hastings?" Havers interrupted.

Sam looked put out. "It was just a suggestion."

"It was a good one," Lynley reassured her. "But what about something simpler? Like theft."

"Go on," Foyle said.

"Well, my grandfather had one brother, also called Thomas, and I would be about the right age for him in this time."

Foyle worried his lip. "I don't know, it could be risky."

"Yeah, what if someone like Sam knows about your family?" Havers asked.

"I think it's highly unlikely," Sam replied quickly. "After all, Cornwall is a jolly long way from Hastings."

"Well, that could be the story if somebody asks if I'm related to the Earl of Asherton," Lynley said. "Otherwise I'm just investigating the theft of some priceless family heirlooms from the Earl, and because I'm the senior policeman in Asherton, he wanted me personally involved."

Foyle nodded. "I think that could work."

"Except we need names for the thieves, descriptions…stories need a lot of thought, you know," Havers pointed out.

"Is she always this cheerful?" Foyle asked Lynley politely.

Lynley tried not to laugh. "Always."

"Well, there are a lot of holes, as you put it, Miss Havers…."

"Barbara, please, sir. You don't *have* to be polite, remember?"

"It might take a little getting used to, but I will try," Foyle replied, straight-faced. "As I was saying, there are a lot of holes, but it's the most believable story and it doesn't need a lot of embellishing. We'll worry about filling it out when we actually have to."

"Is there anything of great importance we should know before we reach the station, Christopher?" Lynley.

"We only have a handful of officers, Thomas, but the main uniformed sergeant is called Brook. And then there is Sergeant Milner, who I will introduce you to properly," Foyle replied. "I think the best thing is for you to just smile and say hello, and we'll go straight to my office."

"I just won't say anything," Havers stated.

Lynley looked at her, an eyebrow raised. "Voluntary silence, Havers? From you? This I must see."

"Can I suggest something?" Sam asked quickly, sensing that the banter might get out of hand.

Lynley smiled. "Of course, Sam."

"Well, Mr Foyle addresses me by my first name, and I always call him Mr Foyle or sir," Sam started, "So it would make sense, to me anyway, if you call Miss Havers Barbara, and she calls you Mr Lynley or sir. Sir."

Havers shook her head. "This is going to give me a headache," she muttered.

"I think that's a good point, Sam," Lynley said warmly, and the driver blushed.

Again, Foyle felt a twinge of…something he could quite - or didn't want to - put a name to, and he glanced at Havers to see how she felt about her boss's tone. But her expression was one of thoughtfulness, and Foyle wanted to ask what she was thinking.

"What are we going to do about a car, though?" Havers asked suddenly.

Foyle allowed himself a small smile. Was that what she had been thinking about? "It's a long drive from Asherton to Hastings, but there's the train. You just got in, we picked you up at the station and you haven't got a car yet, but the Earl of Asherton is insistent that you have a vehicle of your own so you can conduct your own investigation without relying on our help."

"Guess that answers that question," Havers replied, and Foyle tried not to smile any more.

"We're here," Sam announced.

Foyle looked at Lynley and Havers. "Right. Are we ready?"

"As we'll ever be," Lynley replied.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Foyle entered the station first, Lynley and Havers following him, and Sam brought up the rear. Lynley remained focussed ahead, but Havers' eyes darted everywhere, taking everything in, from the friendly - to her - atmosphere to the different uniforms.

A tall, clean shaven man approached, and she guessed he was Foyle's sergeant, Milner. Havers noticed he limped, but that it didn't bother him, and his eyes were kind.

"Good morning, sir," Milner said.

"Good morning, Sergeant," Foyle replied.

"We've had an urgent telephone call, sir, from the Earl of Asherton." Milner stopped at the appropriate place and looked at Lynley and Havers before carrying on. "He, er, said that one of his officers would be arriving on the train and could we have someone meet him."

Foyle blinked once, the only outward sign of his shock. "Well, thank you, Sergeant. The Earl also telephoned me, which is why we're late this morning. We went to the station to pick up Inspector Lynley and his driver, Miss Havers."

Milner just nodded. "Right, sir. Well, he probably wanted to make sure everything was taken care of. The upper class are like that sometimes."

Havers was trying very hard not to laugh, while Foyle just gave a small smile. "Quite. Would you join us in my office, please, Sergeant? Then I can brief you on the situation."

"Of course, sir." Milner waited and fell in step next to Sam, who was looking decidedly sheepish. "You didn't tell him, did you?" the sergeant whispered.

"There wasn't much time," Sam replied defensively. Milner looked at her, his expression both amused and disbelieving.

Foyle allowed everyone to enter his office first and then he closed the door behind them. "Now, would someone mind telling me what is going on?"

"It's my fault, sir," Sam said hurriedly.

"Yes, I gathered that."

Sam blushed. "I happened to tell Sergeant Milner about the name Lynley and that I remembered the Earl of Asherton was William Lynley…."

"I worked the rest out for myself, sir," Milner continued. "You did say that I could embellish the story, as long as I told you what I'd told other people."

"Well, yes, I did, Sergeant, but I didn't expect you to concoct the same story we had," Foyle admitted.

"I just thought it would better to start the story, so to speak, before you arrived," Milner said. "Make it more believable. I hope I did cause any trouble, sir."

Foyle shook his head. "No, not at all, Sergeant. I was just surprised that our stories are the same. Just out of interest, what would you have done if our stories were different?"

"You could always have blamed me," Sam offered. "After all, nobody around here would have trouble believing that."

Milner tried to hide a smile while Foyle kept his expression mild. "Hmm, quite."

Lynley and Havers exchanged a brief look, both silently agreeing that their 'host' and his companions had forgotten about them. The two displaced police officers didn't mind, however; it gave them a good opportunity to study the others.

"I'm sorry, the proper introductions have not been made," Foyle said suddenly. "Sergeant Milner, this is Inspector Thomas Lynley and his driver, Miss Barbara Havers. They arrived on the train from Asherton this morning. This is my Sergeant, Paul Milner."

Lynley stepped forward and extended his hand. "Sergeant," he said, inclining his head. "Thank you for the clothes."

Milner smiled. "You're welcome, sir." He turned. "Miss Havers."

"Can I convince you to call me Barbara?" she asked with a smile.

"If you wanted to, I'm sure you could," Milner replied.

"Oh, good. I like a challenge," Havers said. Milner looked slightly surprised, but he carried on smiling anyway.

Lynley glanced at his sergeant. "You'll have to excuse my…driver, Sergeant Milner. She is extremely…spirited. I think it has something to do with growing up with four older brothers." He didn't dare glance at Havers; he knew she would be glaring at him while rapidly thinking up names for said make-believe brothers.

"That's quite alright, sir," Milner assured him.

Foyle decided he needed to take charge of the situation. "When I spoke to the Earl, he insisted that Inspector Lynley have his own car. Would you and Sam see to that, please, Sergeant? Thank you."

"H-Barbara, why don't you go with them?" Lynley suggested, covering his slip of the tongue up with a cough. "You'll need to familiarise yourself with the car as I'm sure they are in much better condition in Hastings than Asherton."

Sam looked surprised. "Surely the cars are not *that* bad."

"Like driving a tractor," Havers replied, her accent almost completely erased in an instant.

"Oh my." Sam turned before leaving the room. "We shan't be too long, sir."

Foyle nodded. "I know where to reach you, Sam, if an emergency comes up. Inspector Lynley and I won't wander too far anyway."

"Righty-ho, sir. Come on, Barbara. Let me show you the yard."

Havers glanced at Lynley and gave him a brief nod, and he smiled in reply. He had no doubt that his sergeant would be able to win both Sam and Milner over, if she put her mind to it.

"Have you two been working together for long?" Foyle asked quietly.

"A little over six years. Does it show?" Lynley replied with a smile.

"Only a little."

"What about yourself and Milner? And Sam?"

Foyle sat back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling as he thought. "I would say a little under five years, for both. Does it show?"

Lynley grinned. "Only a little."

"Barbara was right, you know. We will need to fill this story out."

"I know." Lynley sighed. "Perhaps it would have been better if we had just stayed somewhere, out of sight. Laid low until…well, until we can work out how to get back to our own time."

"Until we know how you got 'here', going back is going to be something of a problem," Foyle said.

"I know," Lynley repeated wearily.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM  
"So how long have you been Mr Lynley's driver?" Sam asked as they made their way to the garages. The pretence was needed for Milner's sake.

Havers looked at the sky as she thought. It was 1945 now, just before the end of the war, so the truth - about working with Lynley, not being his driver - would work. "About six years," she replied. "Asherton is quite a small place; everybody knows everybody else."

"My home town is like that," Sam said. "I don't miss it one jot."

"How did you come to be in Hastings?" Havers asked, her accent more false and fitting now.

"I joined the MTC and was posted here," Sam replied. "Then I was offered the job, such as it is, of being Mr Foyle's driver because there's a shortage of policemen."

Havers smiled. "Do you find the work interesting?"

"Oh, jolly interesting."

"Sam's going to become the first female police officer," Milner stated quietly, his eyes shining with mirth and affection.

Sam blushed. "That's not funny. You know they'll never allow it."

"Anything's possible," Havers said. "Look at us, doing the jobs of men and doing them well."

"I should go and see the mechanic, see if he's got a car spare," Sam replied, but her mind was elsewhere.

Milner moved to stand next to Havers. "You shouldn't encourage her like that. Sam doesn't deal well with disappointments."

Havers just looked sideways at him. "Who said I was lying, Sergeant? Alright, maybe it won't be Sam, but soon, there will be women in the police. Does that bother you?"

"Not at all. I think that some women have excellent intuition, better than some men," he replied before adding, "But you are an emotional breed."

Havers smiled. "I'll give you that point. May I ask, Sergeant, did you fight in the war?"

Milner nodded, his expression turning somewhat bleak. "I was a policeman before the war, but I enlisted and was part of the Norwegian Campaign, in Trondheim. That's where I lost my leg."

"Which explains the limp," Havers replied. "It's barely noticeable now, but still there."

"Once I'd recovered and they had given me a false leg, Mr Foyle encouraged me to rejoin the police and work with him."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"It has its moments, but it's preferable to fighting," Milner said.

"It must have been very difficult for you," Havers stated quietly.

Milner gave her an indecipherable look. "We may have only just met, but I don't need patronising."

"I was shot in the line of duty," Havers replied, staring ahead, "With something similar to a hunting rifle. The doctors were unsure whether I would live or not."

"I'm sorry, it's just…."

Havers smiled at him. "People say things like 'it must have been difficult' like they actually know what it's like and you know damn well they haven't got a clue. I mean, I don't know what it's like to lose a leg, but seriously injured…yeah, I've got an idea."

"Forgive me for saying, Miss Havers," Milner started.

"I've already asked you, Sergeant, call me Barbara, please."

He smiled back. "I'll try."

"Good. Now, what were you saying?"

"You're very…refreshing."

Havers laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Everything alright?" Sam asked as she returned.

"Sergeant Milner just said I was refreshing," Havers replied.

"He said that about me too once, and now he can't wait to be rid of me!"

Milner looked affronted. "Certainly not."

"To which part, Sergeant?" Havers asked with wide-eyed innocence.

"Don't you ladies have a car to find?" he asked, limping away before the rising blush could spread to the rest of his face.

Havers smiled, catching Sam's fond expression. "He seems like a decent man."

"He is."

"A friend?"

"I'd like to think so," Sam replied.

"Not to mention good-looking," Havers added slyly.

Sam looked shocked. "You can't say that!"

"Why not? You don't think he is?"

"I never said that! But it…it just isn't done," Sam said, clearly flustered.

Havers smiled. "How about, just between us, it is done?"

Sam seemed to be fighting some internal debate. "What is it like? The future, I mean."

"You believe we're from the future?" Havers asked, surprised.

Sam shrugged. "Mr Foyle seems to and I trust him. So if you say you are and he believes you…."

Havers nodded quickly. "I understand. Well, you know I can't tell you very much. If I do, it could affect the way the future goes."

"But…the future has already happened, hasn't it? I mean, you came back from it," Sam said, looking very confused.

"Don't worry, I don't understand it very well either," Havers replied, smiling. "I think that what I would call the past, and you would call the future, is just one version. If Inspector Lynley and I reveal too much to you and Mr Foyle, we could actually change the course of the future, which would be very bad. We may even manage to erase ourselves."

"It's all jolly baffling," Sam said, shaking her head.

"I agree. Lynley could explain it better; he's the one with the big brain."

"Mr Lynley is quite handsome," Sam stated after a while.

Havers shrugged. "I suppose so."

"Not a patch on Clark Gable, though."

"Who?"

Sam looked shocked. "You don't know who Clark Gable is?"

"Obviously not," Havers muttered.

"What kind of a future do you live in?" Sam exclaimed.

Havers all but scowled. "Not a very well educated one, it seems."

Sam blushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't. I'm just finding this very difficult."

"Let's take a look at the car. It's not one of the better ones, I'm afraid," Sam said, walking across the yard.

"I'll try to manage," Havers replied, inwardly wincing at the idea. The only thing she could think of that would less fun than driving a wartime car would be getting shot again.

"So, does the war really end?" Sam asked tentatively as they approached another Wolesley. This one was more worn and battered than Sam's car, and Havers felt an immediate apprehension about having to drive it.

"Yes, it does," Havers replied, focussing on Sam's question rather than the car.

"That will be wonderful. The end of rationing," Sam said wistfully.

Havers scowled again. "Thanks for reminding me of that."

The younger woman studied her new companion carefully. "Come on, let's get back to the station."

"No car?" Havers asked in surprise.

"Would you be comfortable driving one? Or making your way around wartime Hastings, trying to fit in whilst also trying not to draw attention to yourselves?" Sam replied.

Havers grimaced. "No, to everything."

"Then the best thing is for myself or Mr Foyle to go with you or Mr Lynley whenever you go out."

"And how do you explain my presence?"

"I'm teaching you to drive," Sam replied promptly. "After all, the cars here are in much better quality than those from Asherton."

Havers smiled. "Thank you."

"It's the least I can do. Let's find Sergeant Milner and return to the station," Sam said. "I'm sure Mr Foyle and Mr Lynley will want to get out for a short while."

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

"What will you do when the war is over?" Lynley asked as he stared out of the window.

Foyle sat in his chair behind his desk, his hands resting across his midriff. "Retire," he replied. "Again."

Lynley looked over his shoulder and half-smiled. "Again?"

"There were some…issues with the hierarchy. I felt I wasn't needed or wanted any more."

"I can understand that."

"Do you have children, Thomas?" Foyle asked after a while.

Lynley shook his head, and the set of his shoulders told the older policeman that it was a sore subject. "My wife was pregnant, but we…we lost the baby."

"I'm sorry."

"It happened. It can't be changed."

Foyle nodded, even though Lynley couldn't see him. "Your wife must be very worried about you."

"I doubt it," Lynley said, turning fully. "She passed away some months ago. Killed, actually, by a bullet that was meant for me."

"It's difficult when we lose the one we love," Foyle replied. "My wife, Rosalind, also died some time ago, but I'm lucky enough to have a son."

"Andrew," Lynley stated.

"Yes. Even though we don't always see eye-to-eye." Foyle's eyes grew distant as he thought about his son.

"I have to admit a slight curiosity about something," Lynley said quietly, bringing the older man back to the present.

"Yes?"

"You haven't asked us anything about the war or the future. Aren't you just the slightest bit inquisitive as to what happens? After all, it is in the nature of a policeman to ask questions."

Foyle inclined his head in agreement. "True, but would you answer those questions?"

Lynley smiled. "No."

"Then were would be the point in asking?" Foyle shook his head. "There are a great many things I would like to know, but I understand why you can't tell us. We already know that the war does end; when seems an irrelevant point."

There was a knock on the door that prevented any further conversation.

"Come in," Foyle said.

Milner's head appeared and Lynley could see that spending even a short time with the two women had taken its toll on the sergeant.

"Sir, just wanted to let you know that we're back."

Foyle looked only mildly surprised. "So soon?"

"There wasn't anything at the yard," Milner replied, although his tone indicated he didn't believe what he was saying.

"I see. Where are Sam and Miss…Barbara now?" Foyle asked.

"Making tea. I'm sure they'll be along any moment." Milner turned his head briefly, as though listening to something. "Excuse me, sir. Sergeant Brook may have something for us."

"He's a good man," Lynley noted.

Foyle nodded. "Hopefully he'll make Inspector before long."

"Tea break," Sam announced, walking into the room, followed by Havers, who closed the door.

"No car?" Lynley asked politely.

But Havers could see the amusement in his eyes. "Sam thought it would be better if I wasn't driving."

"I agree with that whole-heartedly," Lynley murmured, smiling at Sam, who blushed.

"Because it would be more difficult for us to fit in," Havers continued firmly, her true accent showing through as she glared at her boss. "Do you want to navigate war-torn Hastings, trying to fit in?"

"Ah, not really," Lynley replied in an apologetic tone.

Sam looked at Foyle. "I know it's not ideal, sir, but…."

"It was a good judgement call, Sam," Foyle reassured her, making her blush even more.

There was a knock again but this time Milner didn't wait to be invited before he opened the door. "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but there's been a theft reported. A Mr James Browning said that a priceless family heirloom and some other trinkets have been taken from his house."

Foyle and Lynley shared a glance. "It could be the same man we're looking for," the younger policeman said.

"Hmm," Foyle replied.

"It would have been easier with two cars," Sam pointed out. "That is if we're all going to the scene."

Havers looked at her. "It doesn't need all of us, does it?"

Foyle shook his head. "Sam has to go; she's the driver. Sergeant, you accompany Inspector Lynley please. If this is the same thief he is looking for, then officially this is his case and we would only be in the way. Is that arrangement suitable to you, Thomas?"

Lynley nodded. "Yes, Christopher. Thank you. And, of course, if this thief is not related to my case, I'll hand everything to Sergeant Milner."

If Milner thought the first name basis was unusual, his face didn't show anything. He just stood in the doorway, waiting for orders.

Foyle inclined his head at the Inspector. "Thank you. Sergeant," he said, looking at Milner, and his tone of voice indicated that it was time to leave.

"Yes, sir," Milner replied. "Come on, Sam. Time to go to work. After you, Inspector."

"Are you sure you don't need me, sir?" Sam asked Foyle, unaware of how obvious her hovering was.

Foyle smiled. "Quite sure, Sam. Besides, Barbara here is a driver as well. I'm sure if we need to go out, she can take me."

Milner had his back to the occupants of the room by then so he missed the glares, smirks and barely controlled laughter shared by the four of them.

"Absolutely, Mr Foyle," Havers replied, though the way it was said translated to 'You are in big trouble for that'. Lynley recognised the tone; it was one she used with him a lot, and he was glad Havers felt that comfortable with Foyle.

"We'll see you later, then," Lynley said, shrugging into his overcoat, putting the trilby on his head and pulling the rim down at the front.

"That's going to be a problem," Havers said after a while, breaking the comfortable silence.

Foyle looked up. "Hmm?"

"I'm supposed to be his driver. Now what am I going to be? His secretary?"

Foyle stood up, apparently not having heard what Havers had said. "Let's get out of the station for a while, shall we?"

Havers scowled but allowed herself to be led from his office and down the corridors. "Off out, sir?" Brookie asked.

"Yes, Sergeant. We won't be long. If anyone wants me, tell them…."

"I'll tell them your workin', Mr Foyle," Brookie replied with a grin. Havers liked him.

Foyle smiled back. "Thank you, Sergeant."

Brookie nodded, then inclined his head to Havers. "Miss."

Havers and Foyle walked slowly through the streets of Hastings, the silence between them friendly enough for two people who had only just met, and under strange circumstances at that.

"I never wanted this job," Foyle started in a low voice, surprising Havers. "For someone who fought in the first World War, having to sit on the sidelines for this one was…torture. Still is at times." He looked sideways at her. "I understand the need to feel useless; to feel wanted. The idea of you being Thomas' driver was the easiest explanation, but perhaps not a very good one. But you are here and we can't keep you hidden in my house for the foreseeable future. I understand how frustrating this must be for you, not having anything to do and being trapped in a foreign place, but you must keep hope. We will find something for you to do, a way for you to fit in. And we will find a way to get you and Thomas home."

Instinctively, Havers leant across and pecked Foyle on the cheek, causing him to freeze before blushing slightly. "Thank you," Havers said. Then, on impulse, she linked her arm with his as they carried on walking.

"This is quite inappropriate, you know," Foyle stated and then he looked at her. "You *do* know."

Havers laughed, not minding she had been caught out. "Would you like me to let go and behave myself?"

Foyle pretended to think about it for a while. "Not really," he replied, and Havers beamed. "I must say, you are quite refreshing."

She pulled a face. "Sergeant Milner said the same thing about me earlier."

"He was right."

"Apparently, he said the same thing about Sam as well when she started working with you."

Foyle inclined his head. "Sam is…impulsive at times, but she is young. Over the years, she has given me my fair share of headaches, but she was a much needed breath of fresh air to the police station."

"And to your life?" Havers asked, the question phrased and spoken delicately.

"Definitely. But then again, the Foyle men have always been hard to resist."

"I can imagine," Havers murmured quietly.

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Lynley found it hard to suppress a smile as Havers sat down opposite him and sighed. "Long day?" he asked.

"In that uniform? Definitely!"

"Tight fit?"

Havers glared at him. "A little snug around the edges, sir, yes."

"It wasn't noticeable, Havers," Lynley replied.

"You're a terrible liar," she said, shaking her head. "Any leads on the theft?"

"Well, it could be the same M.O. as the man we're supposed to be looking for," Lynley replied, immediately serious. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass as he collected his thoughts. "The house didn't show any signs of a break-in, but it was clear by the marks in the dust that some items had been taken."

"What about the man who reported the theft? Mr Browning, wasn't it?" Havers asked.

Lynley nodded as he took a sip of whisky. "He was very distressed. One of the items taken was a locket that belonged to his mother. It contained a picture of his wife…who passed away some months ago."

Havers leant forward. "You could just give the case to Christopher," she pointed out. "I mean, really, the two of us could just sit it out here."

Lynley smiled slightly. "I'd rather be caged with a wild tiger than be cooped up with you, Havers. No offence?"

"No offence? Are you being funny?"

"Dinner's ready," Foyle called from the kitchen.

"How was your day?" Lynley asked Havers as they rose and made their way through the house.

Havers was quiet as she remembered. She and Foyle had walked around arm-in-arm for what seemed like hours. Both were aware of the strange looks they received, but Havers didn't care and surprisingly, neither did Foyle. They had a spot of lunch at a small restaurant and while it wasn't what Havers was used to, she enjoyed it, more so because of the company.

Afterwards, they headed back to the police station, only stopping to break up a scuffle in the street. Foyle had tried to use diplomacy but when Havers could see it wasn't getting him very far, she stepped in and kicked one of the men in the shins before punching him and knocking him out.

The fight had broken up quite quickly after that, and Havers was keenly aware that Foyle was looking at her with a mixture of surprise and - she was certain she was right - awe.

Back at the station, Foyle had a small pile of paperwork waiting for him, but instead of putting Havers in a room somewhere, he invited her to stay and as he worked, he talked her through the daily ins and outs of procedures. When she was sure it wouldn't affect the future, Havers would comment on how different, or how similar, things were.

Sam then collected Havers and Foyle and dropped them and Lynley off at Foyle's house. Sam had been invited to stay for dinner, and Havers could see that she wanted to jump at the chance, but only if Havers and Lynley hadn't been there.

"Havers? You still with us?" Lynley asked in amusement.

She glared at him. "Yeah. Aren't you lucky?"

Lynley chuckled. "So how was your day? Quite boring if you zoned out just thinking about it."

Havers glanced at Foyle as they sat down at the table. "It wasn't that bad."

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

"You want me to *what*?" Havers exclaimed incredulously and indignantly.

Foyle looked surprised at the unladylike outburst, while Sam seemed to be intrigued by Havers' reaction, and Lynley was trying very hard to keep his temper.

"It's obvious that the cover of you being my driver isn't going to work," Lynley said. "I believe this is the only viable option."

"I agree," Foyle added quietly.

Havers glared at him. "And how are you going to explain to the sergeants at the police station about yesterday?"

"Misinformation," Foyle replied. "A necessary ruse by the Asherton police force."

Havers was still glaring. "Can't you say I'm his sister or something then?" she asked.

"I don't think my sister would be travelling with me, Havers," Lynley replied, amusement creeping into his voice. Sam, from her silent sentry point at the other side of the room near Foyle, noted that the misplaced policeman had reverted to calling his colleague by her last name. The driver could see it was a deeply ingrained habit, one she found strangely endearing in a man she'd only just met and barely knew.

"Neither would your fiancée," Havers said flatly.

It was early in the morning, by Havers' standards; it hadn't turned nine yet. She was starting to have serious caffeine withdrawal symptoms, as coffee was in extremely short supply and tea just wasn't cutting it for her. Rationing was already starting to affect her - she couldn't remember ever being as hungry - and she had slept poorly the night before. To make matters worse, both Foyle and Lynley had appeared at the breakfast table looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and Sam was the same when she showed up at the door to take them all to 'work'.

Then, when Havers had come back downstairs after getting dressed, Foyle and Lynley both had similar expressions on their faces, the 'I'm up to something' look, and she knew she wasn't going to like what they had to say.

She was right.

Lynley suddenly became serious, all traces of amusement gone from his face. "Sergeant Havers, you will do as you're told and if you're not comfortable playing a role, then you can stay in this house until we find a way to get back. If you go for the latter option, you're not to leave at all. Is that understood?"

"Yes, *sir*," Havers replied sullenly. She was actually surprised he was willing to go along with the idea, especially so soon after Helen's death. But the idea of Havers being Lynley's fiancée didn't seem to bother him in the slightest, a fact which *did* bother Havers.

"Good. So which is it to be?" Lynley asked.

"I'll stay in the house," Havers said.

Foyle noticed Lynley's eyes widened a little. Obviously it wasn't the answer he was expecting. But before the younger man could make a comment, Foyle stepped in. "I think we had better leave for work. Miss Havers can stay here today and we'll discuss it later when we're all a little less irritated."

Sam had been watching Lynley and for a moment she thought he was going to argue the point. But his jaw unclenched and he inclined his head to Foyle. "As you say, Christopher. Shall we?"

Lynley didn't look at Havers as he left the room. Sam gave her a quick smiled, while Foyle lingered. "I don't know what you're used to," he said, "But there are some books around, I think. And I have a radio, but I don't use it very often."

"I'll be fine, thank you," Havers replied, her expression stern, but her tone grateful.

Foyle nodded. "Right, well I'll, er, see you later."

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

The morning at the station was filled with the investigation of petty theft and the case was finished by lunchtime. When Milner asked where Havers was, Foyle simply said she didn't feel well and the sergeant didn't press the matter.

Sam spent the morning being as helpful as usual, when she wasn't watching Lynley, who seemed content to just stay in the background watching and listening. Foyle carried on as normal; there seemed no point in acting any other way, and he was pleasantly surprised how well the morning went. Up to making the arrangements for lunchtime anyway.

"I think I'll go home," Foyle announced. "Sam, why don't you take Mr Lynley around Hastings?"

Lynley looked at Foyle. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm quite happy to do whatever you normally do."

"I insist," Foyle said.

"Havers doesn't need checking up on," Lynley stated. "It was her choice to stay at your house for the duration."

"That may be so, but you didn't exactly offer her any alternative," Foyle replied.

"You were in full agreement with me this morning."

"No, I just said that her posing as your fiancée was a better idea than her being your driver. Personally I think you could have handled this morning a little better, but that's just me."

Lynley straightened, drawing attention to the height difference between him and Foyle. "You might be my superior in rank, but Sergeant Havers is still *my* subordinate. How I treat her or handle any situation that involves her is entirely my business."

"And might I remind *you*, Mr Lynley, that you and Miss Havers are guests in *my* house," Foyle replied calmly, ignoring the fact that the younger man was attempting to look intimidating. *'Attempting,'* Foyle thought with a hint of amusement, *'And failing.'* "If I wish to go home and check that one of my guests is comfortable, then I will do so."

"You don't know Havers like I do, *Mr* Foyle," Lynley said. "Her act this morning was just a ploy to gain attention and if you go back, you'll give her exactly what she wants."

Foyle reached for his coat and hat. "I would think that if you knew *Miss* Havers as well as you say you do, you would know that what she really wants is to go home, to her own time." He placed his hat on his head. "Enjoy your lunch. Sam." He smiled and nodded at his driver as he left the room.

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Havers wasn't sulking or counting the hours until her companions returned; in fact, she had spent most of the morning exploring the house and figuring out how to work everything. The lack of electrical appliances in the kitchen took only a little getting used to; it was the radio that caused her the greatest headache.

She had just got it to work when she heard the front door open. "Hello?" Havers called.

"I didn't mean to startle you, Miss Havers," Foyle replied as he appeared in the living room doorway.

"You didn't," she said.

Foyle smiled, obviously not believing her. "I thought you might like to take a stroll. Perhaps have a spot of lunch out?"

Havers pulled a face. "That sounds great, but Inspector Lynley said…."

"He isn't here," Foyle pointed out. "Would you like lunch out?"

Havers smiled. "That would be lovely, thank you."

"Shall we?"

As they walked down the street, Havers was surprised people didn't stare at her. While she certainly felt out of place, she mustn't have looked it. "I take it from you tone that you and the Inspector have had words," Havers said after a while.

Foyle looked her and raised an eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"

"I know what he's like. You probably wanted to come back to check on me because you're a gentleman," Havers stated. "And Lynley probably said not to bother, that I should be left alone to stew."

Foyle dipped his head so that part of his face was hidden by his hat; that way Havers wouldn't see the amusement in his eyes. "Well, he, er, didn't quite put it like that, but yes, that was the general gist of the conversation."

"Did you put him in his place?" she asked.

"Not exactly."

"Alright, you exerted your authority over him."

Foyle looked up. "I don't have any authority over Thomas, Miss Havers."

She smiled. "Please call him that as often as you can. He hates it, you know."

Foyle tried to look stern and failed miserably. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

"And my name is Barbara, please use it," Havers said. "It isn't impolite or disrespectful."

"I'll try, but I suspect you'll have to remind me frequently, Miss Havers," Foyle replied, and she laughed.

"What I meant before when I said authority…well, I wasn't just talking about your rank," she explained. "You're a seasoned policeman and a veteran of the First World War. In that way, you have status and Lynley responds well to status."

"Hmm," Foyle replied.

Havers rolled her eyes and looked at him. "Is that your standard response for everything?"

"Most things," he said.

"May I ask a question, Mr Foyle?"

"Of course, Barbara."

"You seem very…relaxed around me," Havers said.

Foyle glanced at her. "That was a statement."

"I hadn't finished."

"Sorry."

"Is it normal?"

Foyle gave her a half smile. "You mean I seem like a stuffy individual who doesn't know how to relax or have a good time."

"No, I didn't mean that," Havers protested.

"Well, that's right," Foyle replied. "After the first war, then Rosalind died, and with the second war going on all around me and I can't get near it…." He trailed off. "'Having fun' is an unfamiliar concept now, but with you…. Well, with you, I, er, I'm not…I mean, I don't…."

Havers stopped and put her hand gently on his arm. "You can just say whatever's on your mind. You won't offend me and no one else will hear about it so your reputation won't be damaged."

Foyle inclined his head and then bent his arm a little, offering Havers his elbow. She looked surprised.

"Won't people talk?" Havers asked.

Foyle nodded. "More than likely. But some people could make idle chitchat even if we were walking on opposite sides of the road going in different directions."

"Very true," Havers replied, taking his arm and continuing to walk. "Some things never change."

"This is what I was trying to say," Foyle said. "With you, there are none of the usual constraints society insists on putting on us, at least in this time." He stared ahead. "I always thought that society's rules were needed, but now, meeting you, I wonder if change is needed."

"Does the idea of women in the police bother you?" Havers asked.

"No particularly," Foyle replied. "Before this war, I would never have thought about women doing men's jobs, but now…. Now change is upon us but I think more is needed."

"It will come," Havers said quietly.

"This morning you seemed, er, tired."

"You mean cranky," Havers told him. "I was. Rationing is very difficult for me, and I drink more coffee than tea, so I'm already suffering from the lack of caffeine. And I didn't sleep well."

"Are you, er, feeling homesick?" Foyle asked.

Havers shook her head. "Not really. Last night I was cold."

Foyle looked at her in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah. I think we're spoilt in the future."

Foyle didn't ask any more questions; he simply didn't want to know what lay ahead, preferring it to be a mystery. Instead, he said, "It's a shame you didn't appear a few years ago. There was a nice Italian restaurant where we could have had lunch."

"What happened?" Havers asked.

"It was burnt down when Italy joined the war on the side of the Nazis," Foyle replied sombrely.

Havers just nodded. She almost said 'I'm sorry' but she realised how stupid that would sound. After all, it wasn't her fault. "So where are we eating, then?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure we'll find somewhere," Foyle said, smiling slightly.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Despite his bad temper, Lynley had to admit that lunch was good. Sam took them to a small café in Hastings and while the fare was meagre compared to Lynley's standards, he enjoyed it.

The only problem, though, was that Sam kept staring at him. Eventually he dabbed his mouth with his napkin, put both his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands.

"Is there something wrong, Miss Stewart?" Lynley asked mildly.

Sam blushed magnificently. "I'm sorry, I was staring, and I know I shouldn't because it's rude, but…."

"Sam, it's alright," Lynley replied, smiling reassuringly at her.

She looked down at the table and fidgeted before lifting her head, apparently having decided something. "What's it like?"

Lynley blinked in surprise. "Pardon?"

"If you really are from…the future," Sam said in a whisper, "What is it like?"

"You know I can't tell you anything."

"Nothing at all?" Sam asked, her tone and expression disappointed.

A smile tugged at the corners of Lynley's lips. "Alright, you ask me questions and if I can give you an answer, I will."

"Is there rationing?"

Lynley laughed. "No, there isn't."

"Oh, jolly good," Sam replied, apparently relieved. But then she grew sombre. "Are there any more wars after this?"

"There are always wars," Lynley replied carefully. "And they all affect the world in one way or another."

"That was a very guarded answer," Sam stated.

"Yes, it was."

Her expression suddenly shifted. "I'm not an idiot, you know," she said.

"I didn't think you were," Lynley replied.

"No, you think I'm just a silly little girl who doesn't know what she's doing or talking about half of the time." Sam pinned him with a look far older than her years. "Tell me, Mr Lynley, how many wars have you been through? How much rationing have you endured? How many sleepless nights have you had wondering if the place you're sleeping will be the next to be bombed?"

"Sam, I…."

"I might be on the front line, but I do my share," Sam continued regardless. "I've been stuck in a building that was about to blow up, with the bomb not three feet from me. I've had a dose of anthrax and survived, so please don't treat me like a child."

"If I have been doing, then I apologise," Lynley said quietly. "It wasn't my intention. But I'm not exactly at home here as you all might think."

Sam smiled quickly and nodded. "I understand. So, can I ask more questions now?"

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Havers and Foyle strolled arm in arm through the streets, chatting occasionally about nothing important. Both were careful what they said for different reasons; Havers didn't want to upset the timeline while Foyle was just being Foyle.

"What will Andrew do when the war is over?" Havers asked.

Foyle looked at her in surprise. "I don't know if he's thought about it or not."

"I suppose he wouldn't."

"I know I didn't."

It took Havers a moment to work out what Foyle was talking about. "Is that why you joined the police?"

"I wanted to be useful," Foyle replied simply.

Havers smiled. "Don't we all?" She stared ahead. "We seem to spend a lot of time talking about the same things. Does it bother you?"

"Not really. You?" Foyle asked.

"Not when the company is so pleasant," Havers said, and she could have sworn he blushed.

"May I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"There seems to be a great deal of…tension between Thomas and yourself," Foyle said. "He appears very protective of you and yet he seeks to, er, punish you at the same time."

Havers gave a rueful smile. "I'm afraid I can't give you a satisfactory answer. That's just the way we are together."

"That's it?" Foyle asked in surprise.

"We've always clashed. He's from a blueblood family, a lord who's always had everything he wanted handed to him," Havers replied before adding quickly, "I'm not saying he hasn't worked, or that he doesn't work hard, but sometimes he doesn't understand what it's like to struggle all the time. To have to prove your worth every single day."

Foyle looked at her. "Thomas thinks he is…better than you?"

"Sometimes," Havers said. "But it's more than that. Even though he's my superior, I won't put up with any of his crap. I think for myself and do my own thing, probably too often."

Foyle's eyes widened at her language, but he chose not to comment. "You sound like Sam," he said instead.

Havers decided to think before speaking, but it didn't change what came out of her mouth. "You care about her a great deal, don't you?"

"She has an unnatural, er, ability for getting herself into trouble," Foyle replied delicately.

"So you think she needs looking after," Havers said, enjoying teasing her companion.

"No, I didn't say that," Foyle protested mildly. "I just think that she needs someone to keep an eye on her."

Havers stared at him incredulously. "That's the same thing!"

"Is it?"

Havers shook her head and laughed. "Are we going to eat lunch today or just walk about?" she asked.

"We're eating lunch today," Foyle replied. "In fact, we're here."

Havers smiled as she looked around the café. It wasn't much, but she was certain the company would more than make up for any hardships she would have to endure. But suddenly her face fell and her expression became hard.

"Is something wrong?" Foyle asked, looking at her in concern.

Havers yanked her arm away from his and glared at him. "Did you plan this?" she retorted hotly.

Foyle looked uncomfortable, not at the argument, but at the amount of attention they were drawing to themselves. "What do you…?" he started, then spotted a familiar face over Havers' shoulder. "Oh."

Foyle quickly motioned for Sam to carry on as though she hadn't seen him as he could tell she was just about to notify Lynley of their arrival.

"Barbara, I didn't know," Foyle told her.

"I know. I could tell with your expression. I'm sorry," Havers replied sheepishly before smiling ruefully. "Now you know why me and Lynley argue so much."

"Well unless he turns around, he won't know we're here. Come on, let's sit in the corner." Foyle led her to a table and pulled out her chair like a proper gentleman; Havers was surprised to find she could get used to the treatment given time.

"Thank you," she said.

"You seem surprised."

Havers laughed. "I can't remember the last time someone pulled a chair out for me. In fact," she said with a frown, "I don't think anyone ever has."

Foyle looked horrified. "Doesn't anyone have any manners in your, er, time?"

"Not like here," Havers replied.

"Do you have, er, family back home that will be worrying about you?" Foyle asked.

Havers shook her head and looked down at the table, so she missed Foyle's expression when she answered. "No family, no husband or boyfriend…no friends either, really. The only people that might miss me - and Lynley, for that matter - are Winston and Lafferty."

Foyle's eyebrows rose. "Lafferty?" he repeated.

Havers smiled and nodded. "He's a…scientist that works with us in the police station, and Winston is another officer."

"I see. Well, what would you like? The menu is somewhat limited, I'm afraid."

"Why don't you choose for me?" Havers suggested.

Behind her, Lynley seemed quite oblivious to Foyle and Havers' presence, as Sam continued to chat animatedly. But his keen policeman's senses had detected a change in the driver's behaviour due to something he couldn't see, so he waited for the opportune moment, then when's Sam's attention was diverted, Lynley turned round.

"No, wait!" Sam exclaimed.

Her cry was loud enough to alert Havers and Foyle to what was happening. Lynley stared for a moment, jealousy whipping at him like a winter wind in a blizzard. Very calmly and slowly, he wiped his mouth again with his napkin, put it on the table and stood up.

Havers heard the cry but did her best to ignore it. However, when Foyle's expression changed - already she had name that one his 'oh dear' look - she turned to see what was going on.

Lynley was striding towards them with a look Havers recognised all too well and she wasn't very impressed to have it directed towards her.

"I thought I told you to stay in the house," Lynley said to her quietly when he was within earshot.

"You did, *sir*, but I was invited to lunch and it would have been impolite to turn it down," Havers replied.

"Just because we're not at home, Sergeant, doesn't mean you can use any tone you want with me," Lynley chastised her. "Go back to Mr Foyle's house immediately and stay there. Do you understand?"

"Thomas, Miss Havers is my guest. You cannot just dismiss her," Foyle said, stepping up to Havers' side.

Lynley looked surprised to have his order challenged. "This is none of your business, Christopher. I told you that earlier, but you obviously decided to disregard what I said."

"Only because I think you're being unreasonable, as *I* told *you* earlier," Foyle replied calmly.

"You would do well to remember that she is my subordinate," Lynley snapped, taking a step closer to Foyle.

The older policeman seemed unperturbed. "And you would do well to remember that you are my guests, both of you. If I wanted, I could have you thrown in prison for being German spies, and then it would be a very long time before you saw the light of day again."

"You wouldn't dare," Lynley said scornfully.

"You're right," Foyle replied, nodding. "I wouldn't throw Miss Havers in jail. As far as I know, she hasn't done anything wrong. You, on the other hand…."

"What about me?"

Foyle made a face. "You irritate me."

Lynley swung for Foyle, a solid punch that would have knocked the older man unconscious had he not anticipated the move. Instead, he just stepped to the side, causing Lynley to overbalance and stumble. Sam looked ready to hit Lynley, but she remembered it was not proper behaviour for a lady and so managed to refrain herself with great effort.

Havers, on the other hand, felt no such restraints and as Lynley righted himself, she swung her fist, connecting smoothly with his jaw and sending him flying onto his back.

"What is the *matter* with you?" Havers shouted at Lynley's prone figure.

Sam stared at her open-mouthed while Foyle put a hand tentatively on Havers' arm. "I think we had better go back to the station," he said quietly. "Sam, help me get him up."

Lynley groaned groggily as Foyle and Sam hauled him to his feet. "I have to say," the driver murmured to Havers as they walked off, "That was an awfully good thump."

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

"Sir," Sam said quietly. "You're not really going to throw Mr Lynley in a cell, are you?"

They had walked quite a distance in silence, Havers keeping an eye on a sullen Lynley while Foyle walked a little behind with Sam. The atmosphere between the four of them was so tense it made cheese wire look like rubber.

Foyle sighed. "No, Sam, I'm not."

Sam was relieved, though she tried not to show it. "It can't be easy for them, sir," she said in a serious time. "Either of them. I mean, where they come from must seem awfully different to here. Like being in another country for the first time, I imagine."

Foyle looked sideways at his driver. "Do you think I'm being too harsh?"

Sam coloured immediately. "Oh, no, sir, I was just saying that it must be difficult for them…." She trailed off. "Just like it must be difficult for you." Sam shook her head. "Forget I said anything, sir."

"I'm not angry with you, Sam," Foyle said gently. "It's just that you always have an opinion on everything and since we left the café, you've been strangely silent. So I want to know what you're thinking."

Sam eyes widened comically. "Really?"

"Really," Foyle replied, nodding.

"Well, sir, since you asked, yes, I do think you're being a little hard on Mr Lynley, just as he has been on Barbara. You and he seemed to be getting on really well, and then suddenly you're…." Sam paused, frowning as she thought of the right word. "…Baiting each other, sir."

Foyle raised an eyebrow. "Baiting?"

Sam nodded. "One of you says something to annoy the other, like you're testing each other's boundaries, seeing how far you can push one another."

"I see."

"I think you should put Mr Lynley under house arrest, sir," Sam said, nodding in finality.

"And why is that, Miss Stewart?" Foyle asked.

For once, Sam was unfazed by the use of her formal title or by the tone of his voice. "Because it's going to jolly awkward for you to explain to Sergeants Milner and Brooke why Mr Lynley is in a cell. And if you make him stay at your house, it might make him understand Barbara better. After all, Mr Lynley wanted her to stay in the house for the rest of their stay here, didn't he?"

All Foyle could think about in that moment was how proud he was of Sam's mature attitude, but at the same time he was sad that one so young should have been made so old. War did that to people, Foyle knew firsthand, but it still upset him sometimes, knowing all the young people in England who should have been enjoying themselves were fighting a war they hadn't started.

*'The old make the mistakes, but it's the young who pay,'* Foyle thought glumly. But outwardly he just smiled slightly. "Very well said, Sam." Raising his voice slightly, Foyle said, "Turn left here."

Havers stopped abruptly and turned round. "The police station is straight on."

"Yes, it is."

"Why are we going left?"

Foyle held Havers' gaze. "We're not going to the police station. We're going back to my house. Would you please continue walking? People are starting to stare."

She scowled at him and continued to stalk ahead. It had been Sam's idea that Havers walked arm-in-arm with Lynley, giving the impression that they were fiancés. But it also gave Havers greater control over Lynley as she was digging her fingers into the nerve on the underside of his bicep.

"Maybe he's decided to be reasonable instead of being encouraged into foolishness by you," Lynley muttered.

Havers didn't say anything, just gripped his arm tighter, causing him to lean into her. "You might be my superior, *sir*, but I'm getting sick of your aristocratic attitude. You think you're better than me; you always have," she told him in a low voice. To anyone watching, they looked like two lovers exchanging tender words. "When we find a way to leave this place, I'm not going."

The blood drained instantly from Lynley's face and he turned to look at Havers, aware her lips were only centimetres from his. "What?"

"You heard me. There's nothing to say I have to go back to our time," Havers continued, practically dragging him along as his legs seemed to have stopped working. "You know I won't jeopardise the timeline, so don't even bother to even *think* about starting to lecture me on that."

"You'd hate it here," Lynley said after a while, once his voice had returned properly.

"And who says I don't hate our own time?" she retorted, glaring at him.

Lynley blinked, surprised. "Do you dislike me so much, Barbara?" he asked quietly.

Havers held his gaze for a second longer than was necessary before looking forward, watching where they were going, not uttering any kind of sound. But she did loosen her grip on his arm, not that Lynley noticed much. He was too busy thinking of their short exchange, one of many during their years working together, but for some reason it had imprinted itself on his mind and he couldn't forget.

They had argued before. Almost from the first day they had worked together, Lynley and Havers had disagreed about something, usually the way the job was to be done. He had been educated at the best schools, had a proper upper-class upbringing, and was a fast-track copper. She had gone to an average school, had a working class upbringing, and had earned her rank through hours of pounding the pavement wearing a uniform.

Yet despite all their differences, something unique had emerged; a partnership that was strong and trusting. But now Lynley saw how he had abused that relationship; while not exactly meaning to, he had always viewed himself as superior than Havers, and not just because he held a higher ranks. In many ways, Havers had more experience than he did; she just lacked any kind of diplomacy and hated office politics with a passion.

Now Lynley was faced with loosing the one true friend he had in the world. Havers had stuck by him when Helen died when no one else bothered. He had managed to push everyone else away, but not Havers. He was struck by a sudden realisation that made him tremble slightly: he loved Havers. As his best friend, as a trusted partner, it didn't matter. He cared about her and he loved her as such, and through that understanding, he saw how much he had hurt her through the years.

When they reached Foyle's house, the atmosphere had turned dour, almost melancholy. Sam hesitated on the steps, behind Foyle, who was opening the door, and Lynley and Havers, who were still linked.

"I'll just wait here, sir," Sam said, her hands clasped behind her back.

"Hmm?" Foyle replied, turning round to look at her.

"We are going back to the station, aren't we?" she asked.

"Oh, right. Yes, we are."

Sam nodded. "I'll wait here and walk back with you if you like, sir."

Foyle glanced at Lynley and Havers. "Actually, Sam, I think I'd better stay here."

Sam understood his unspoken reasons why, but her face fell a little anyway. "Oh, right, sir. What should I tell Sergeant Milner?"

"Just, er, tell him something's come up and that I'll see him tomorrow," Foyle said, pushing the front door open.

"Right you are, sir," Sam replied, turning and waving. "Cheerio!"

Foyle stared after her. "Why don't you two go inside?" he suggested. "And try not to break anything."

"Does that include bones?" Havers asked smartly.

But Foyle was already making his way after Sam. Lynley looked at Havers and replied, "Yes, it does."

Havers was about to retort when she saw the look in his eyes. "Excuse me. I need to change into something comfier."

"Sam, wait," Foyle said.

 

"Yes, sir?"

"Would you, er, like to come round for dinner tonight?" he asked, somewhat nervously.

Sam's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

Foyle nodded. "I might need some help with those two."

"Oh, right, sir," Sam replied, upset that he had only asked her because of his unusual visitors. But then she thought about it some more and realised Foyle was more than capable of handling Lynley and Havers. Deciding to believe he wanted her company, Sam nodded. "That would be smashing. Thanks ever so much, sir."

Foyle smiled. "Don't thank me, Sam. You're doing the dishes." He turned walked off before she could retort, calling over his shoulder, "Be here for seven, if you can."

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

When Sam arrived at Foyle's house that evening, she hesitated before knocking on the door, unsure of what events would transpire after the lively afternoon that had passed. She had arrived back at the station to find Milner had gone out on a case. It was nothing serious, Brookie informed her, just a robbery.

Unsure what else to do, Sam spent most of the afternoon making tea for the other officers and sitting in reception with Sergeant Brooke. When Milner reappeared, Sam quickly told him that Foyle was staying at home, assuring him that nothing was wrong. Sam didn't think Milner believed her, but he was too polite to ask otherwise. He had just smiled and told her to go home earlier as she wasn't needed. Sam didn't take it as a harsh dismissal; in fact, she looked forward to spending some time at home during the day, when there was no blackout in place. It was a fairly new experience for her.

But now Sam wondered exactly what she was letting herself in for. She was worrying that she had been overzealous and too quick to accept Foyle's invitation to dinner. She was about to turn round and walk away when the front door started to open.

"Sam!" Havers exclaimed, smiling. "I thought I saw you walking up the path a few minutes ago, but then you didn't knock. Is everything alright?"

"Oh, tickety-boo, Barbara," Sam replied, smiling as well.

"You look very nice," Havers said. "Please, come in."

Jealousy flickered inside Sam like flames licking at a piece of wood. Just who was this woman to be inviting her into Foyle's house like she owned the place? Sam wanted to take a leaf out of Havers' book and practice her right hook, but she held herself in check.

Foyle was stood in the living room doorway as Sam made her way down the hallway and he smiled openly at his driver. "Good evening, Sam," he greeted her.

"Good evening, sir," Sam replied, wondering why her cheeks suddenly felt like they were burning. For a moment she thought Havers was going to linger, but the other woman simply carried on to the kitchen.

"Come in," Foyle said, standing to one side to allow Sam entry to the living room.

"Thank you, sir."

Lynley had been sat in the corner reading, but when he saw the driver, he put the book down and stood. "Good evening, Miss Stewart."

"Good evening, Mr Lynley," Sam replied perfunctorily.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment, I need to see what mess Barbara is making in my kitchen," Foyle said, smiling and leaving the room.

The atmosphere immediately turned awkward, and Sam almost jumped out of her skin when Lynley stepped towards her. "Sam, I just wanted to say how sorry I am for my behaviour earlier," he told her, his voice quiet and gentle. "I have no excuse for the way I acted."

"It's alright, sir, I understand," Sam replied. "After all, it must be awfully difficult for you being here."

Lynley nodded. "But that's still no excuse for me to be rude to you or Christopher. I assure you it won't happen again."

Sam seemed a little flustered. "Oh, well, apology accepted, sir."

"Sam, please, call me Thomas."

"I don't know if I can, sir. It's awfully improper."

Lynley smiled. "No one will know except for us four," he assured her. "At least think about it, and maybe try."

"Alright, I'll try," Sam said, smiling back.

In the kitchen, Foyle was helping Havers find all the things she needed for making dinner when she suddenly tapped his shoulder hard with a wooden spoon. Foyle turned, his eyes wide in surprise.

"What on earth…?"

"That was for saying I was making a mess," Havers replied, unfazed.

Foyle immediately made his eyes narrow. "Is it, er, normal in your…time to abuse your hosts in such a way?"

"I wouldn't know, I don't go out much," Havers retorted.

Foyle watched her carefully. "May I ask a question?"

"Of course. But don't be upset if I don't reply."

"I'm a policeman. I'm used to that."

Havers smiled. "Go on."

"Are you happy? In your own time, I mean."

"Why do you ask?" Havers turned to look at him, her forehead creased in a frown.

"Your manner, the way you talk about your time…." Foyle stopped and shrugged slightly. "You give the impression you are unhappy, not just with the situation, but generally."

"And why does this bother you?" Havers asked, her tone sharp.

Foyle held her gaze. "I care about you," he replied simply, his head turning slightly at the sound of laughter from the other room, his eyes never leaving Havers'. "It sounds like Sam and Thomas are getting along better now." He hesitated. "I'll leave you to making dinner. Please shout if you need any help."

Havers watched his retreating back and kicked herself for being so stupid. When they had returned, Lynley had locked himself upstairs for a few hours, presumably to sulk, but it turned out he had been thinking and berating himself for acting so out of character.

During that time, Havers and Foyle had talked about the war and Foyle shared some of the cases he had worked on with her. Havers in turn told him about some of the cases she had worked, giving him the bare details only, but it was enough to sustain a conversation. At some point, Havers had confided in Foyle that she really didn't have anyone in her own time that would miss her, and that even Lynley didn't care about her sometimes. Foyle told her he found that hard to believe.

Now, when someone showed genuine concern for her, Havers threw it back in her face. She knew how difficult it must have been for Foyle to say what he just had, and what did Havers do? She shook her head. It really was no wonder she was alone.

"Hello," Sam said brightly, bringing Havers out of her reverie. "Mr Foyle thought you might like some help."

Havers almost made a biting retort but stopped herself at the last minute. Instead, she smiled genuinely and nodded. "That would be great, thanks."

"I bet you'll be glad to get home, won't you?" Sam asked as she bustled around the kitchen.

"I'm not sure I want to go home."

There, it was out in the open. The thought that had been running around Havers' head since she had almost yelled that at Lynley. She could still see the look on his face clearly, like he had been slapped with a piece of wood.

When Lynley came down from his solitary few hours, the first thing he did was ask to speak to Foyle alone. Havers went upstairs and tried to read one of Foyle's books, but she couldn't concentrate. Instead she sat near the window, watching the world go by and thinking. When someone knocked on the door, Havers had almost jumped of her skin.

She was surprised when Lynley had entered the room, though she didn't show it. "Yes, sir?"

Lynley had sighed, his eyes said. "Barbara, I am so sorry about what happened before. In fact, I'm sorry for treating you badly all these years. I don't have a reason for my behaviour; I knew it was appalling but I didn't realise how much I hurt you. I've been an idiot, I realise that now. I know I can't change the past; I can only hope it's not too late to make amends for the future." He paused, as though he was either gathering his thoughts or waiting for Havers to say something. She remained silent. "I know I can't stop you, particularly considering how stubborn you are," he continued, smiling slightly. "But I hope that when we find a way to return to our present, you'll come with me. I don't want you to stay here; I'd miss you too much." Lynley suddenly looked at the floor, finding his shoes interesting. When he looked up, his eyes were shining. "I'll leave you to your musing."

Havers had thought about his speech for the rest of the day, and now, talking to Sam, she realised that Lynley's words hadn't had the effect on her that he wanted them to, or perhaps that they should have done.

Sam was staring at her in surprise. "Really? I thought you would have been very eager to return. I know I would be."

"Would you?" Havers asked, an edge to her voice.

"You don't know what it's like to live through a war, do you?" Sam replied quite calmly. "Believe me, if you did, you would want to leave as well."

Havers had no answer for the younger woman's words, so she busied herself making dinner. Sam stayed to help, but an uncomfortable silence had descended over the kitchen.

After a while, Havers went into the living room to announce dinner was ready, but the scene before her stalled her tongue. Foyle and Lynley were sat opposite each other, both staring thoughtfully at a chess board. Havers watched as they deliberated over each move and studied the other's weaknesses in the game. It seemed as though the disastrous lunch had never occurred, and while everyone had accepted Lynley's apology, Havers could not forget what had happened. Ever since they had become stranded in the past, she had never seriously entertained the idea of staying, thinking of it only to use to annoy Lynley.

Now, however, as she stood watching the two men before her, it wasn't her boss that her gaze was drawn to. It was Foyle. This in itself presented many problems. One, it was very obvious to Havers that Sam was interested in Foyle, despite the age differences and the problems they would have with society if they ever did get together. Two, Foyle was obviously still very much married to his dead wife, and that presented a difficult obstacle to any woman who wished to pursue him. Three, Havers thought that Foyle liked her, but he also had a soft spot for Sam. It was a complex triangle, and Havers didn't want to hurt either Sam or Foyle.

And there was still Lynley. His earlier speech had come straight from the heart, Havers had seen that. But he had pushed her so far away that she found she couldn't find her way back to him, and she wasn't sure she wanted to.

"Barbara."

Havers started, realising someone was talking to her and that it wasn't the first time her name had been called. "Sorry, I was daydreaming."

Foyle smiled at her. "Wrong time of the day for that, isn't it?"

Havers nodded in agreement while telling her stomach to settle down. He was close to her, closer than she thought was entirely appropriate, at least in that day and age. "Yes, it is. Dinner's ready," she announced, keeping her gaze on Foyle, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lynley watching them. Surprisingly, he didn't seem bothered by the exchange.

"I trust my kitchen is still intact?" Foyle asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Mostly," Havers replied straight-faced. "You might be missing a few plates, though."

Foyle looked aghast. "Not the china."

"It was the patterned stuff," Havers said with a shrug.

"Oh."

Lynley looked at her disapprovingly as he approached and shook his head slightly, trying not to smile. Havers gave him an innocent expression in reply and walked back into the kitchen.

"I hope you don't have any china, Christopher," Lynley said quietly as they went into the dining room.

"Even if I did, Thomas, I'm not daft enough to display it with my son around," Foyle replied. "Believe me, he's worse than Sam and Barbara put together."

Lynley raised his eyebrows in surprise but wisely didn't say anything.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

After dinner, of which there was absolutely nothing left, Foyle and Lynley agreed to wash the dishes while Sam and Havers retired to the living room to put their feet up. By the time the men joined them, they were laughing hard about something and neither Foyle nor Lynley had a clue what it was.

They sat themselves at the chess board again and picked up the game they had left before dinner. After a while, Sam and Havers pulled chairs up.

"Care to tell us what was so funny?" Lynley asked, tearing his eyes away from the board for a second.

"If we knew, we would," Havers replied, watching Foyle reach for a piece. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Foyle looked up, surprised. "Why not?"

"If you do, he'll check mate you in about three moves," Havers said. "But that's only if he noticed the mistake you were about to make."

"*He* is sat right here," Lynley pointed out.

Havers just nodded. "I know."

Sam giggled as Lynley and Foyle both bent over the board, butting heads as they studied the positions of the pieces. After a while, they both sat back looking mildly surprised.

"I do believe the lady is right," Foyle said mildly.

Lynley looked at his colleague. "I'm shocked, Barbara."

"Why?" she asked, an edge to her tone. "Because I'm a woman?"

"Nothing of the sort," Lynley replied. "I was actually thinking because you're a Northerner. Don't you just go down holes to blow things up and surface for beer?"

Both Sam and Foyle raised their eyebrows at that statement, and for a moment they thought Havers was going to explode. But she just stared at Lynley before laughing loudly.

"Your move, Christopher," Lynley said calmly, looking back at the board.

"I don't remember the last time I ate so much," Sam stated after a while.

"Well there won't be anything to eat tomorrow," Foyle said, moving his knight with a smile, the relocation of the piece causing Lynley to frown.

Sam immediately looked panicked. "Why not, sir?"

"Because we have eaten everything that was in this house, Miss Stewart," he pointed out.

"Really?" Sam blinked in surprise. "Perhaps we should try not to miss any meals in future, then."

"Rook to king's bishop four and you've got him," Havers suddenly announced.

Foyle didn't even bother to check the board before he made the move. "Check mate, I do believe, Thomas."

Lynley made a dramatic scene of lying his king down. "I want a rematch. That was completely unfair. You had help."

"I'm sure you could have asked Sam to assist you," Foyle said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"So you could have won more quickly? I don't think so."

Sam looked positively outraged by that comment. "Is it common to speak about people in such a way where you come from, Mr Lynley?"

"I think it's common anywhere, Miss Stewart," Lynley replied with a smile. "Or at least amongst friends it is."

Sam coloured beautifully at that remark and ducked her head. Foyle looked at her in mild surprise. "I shall have to remember that," he said. "It seems to be the only thing that stops you from talking."

While Sam blushed even harder, Lynley and Havers laughed. But the mood soon turned sombre when Havers said, "I've been thinking."

"Heaven help us," Lynley muttered.

Havers ignored him. "We need to find a way to get home."

"But I thought you weren't sure if you wanted to…." Sam's eyes suddenly went wide as she realised what she was about to say.

But Havers didn't seem perturbed. "No, I don't know if I want to go home or not and before anyone starts to object," she said quickly. "It is my decision to make. If I stay here, I guarantee I won't cause any trouble whatsoever."

Lynley coughed, but it sounded suspiciously like 'I doubt'.

"But at least one of us wants to go back to the future," Havers continued.

Lynley rolled his eyes. "You had to, didn't you?"

"What?" Sam asked.

"It's the title of a film all about time travelling," Lynley replied quickly.

"Actually, it might be two."

All eyes turned to the driver. "Sam?" Foyle asked in a quiet voice laced with hurt he couldn't hide.

Sam focussed her gaze on him. "It's an option, isn't it, sir? If I stay here…I can't do what I really want to. I don't think they'll let me. And after the war…things won't go back to normal straight away. I could…I think that maybe, perhaps, I have a good chance at…something. I could go, couldn't I?" She shifted her gaze to Lynley and Havers, who glanced at each other.

"It could be difficult," Lynley replied. "We would have to make sure you don't come into contact with any of your descendents…."

"It wouldn't matter," Havers interrupted. "If Sam goes to our future, then her future - our past - will be different because she won't have been here to make that future. So…."

"So there won't be any children or grandchildren. Yes, Havers, I understand."

Havers grimaced. "I'm glad you do. This all gives me a headache."

Foyle looked at Sam. "Do you have any idea what they're talking about?"

"Not a clue, sir," Sam replied.

"Well, put simply, it would be possible," Lynley said.

"Shall we get back to the 'how'?" Foyle asked.

Sam suddenly jumped to her feet, her face pale. "Oh no! What time is it?"

"Almost ten," Havers replied. "Why?"

But Foyle had also risen, understanding immediately what was wrong with his driver. "You can't go back now, Sam. It's too dangerous. And I believe your landlady will throw you out if you turn up now, won't she?"

Sam nodded glumly. "She'll also do the same in the morning, sir."

"Not if I come with you and explain you were working," Foyle said. "I presume you brought the car?"

"Of course, sir."

"So there shouldn't be a problem."

Sam coloured again. "Your house is a bit, er, full already, sir. And I…Ididntbringanythingtosleepin."

"I think I can help with that," Havers said while the two men were still trying to work out the second part of Sam's sentence. "You lent me some clothes, remember?"

"Oh, right, yes. Gosh, I had forgotten."

"And as for the sleeping arrangements, I do have a spare room," Foyle said.

Lynley glared at him. "Then why did you insist on taking the couch?"

"Because it is full of…things," Foyle replied. "It isn't equipped to sleep people."

"Sam, why don't you and I go and made some…cocoa?" Lynley looked questioningly at Foyle. "Or maybe just warm milk. It'll help us all sleep and I think we need it."

Sam's eyes widened more than Havers thought was possible. "Me?"

He nodded. "I don't know about you, but I'm fairly useless at making beds and I don't particularly want to volunteer for the job."

Sam suddenly grinned and nodded. "Right you are, sir. We'll just…." She motioned towards the kitchen and she and Lynley made a hasty retreat.

Havers shook her head. "That was smooth."

"Did you mean it?" Foyle asked, staring at her intently.

"What?"

"Staying here."

"I'm thinking about it." Havers studied Foyle carefully. "Don't you want me to?"

Foyle twitched a little, a sign he was fighting to either not say or do something. "It isn't for me to say yes or no."

"If you said you didn't want me to stay, I wouldn't consider it any further," Havers said.

Foyle stared at the heavy dark curtains. "I would say that I am…not looking forward to your…departure," he replied very slowly. "You are a unique woman, and not just because you are not from this time. I would like to think…perhaps in time…we could be…friends."

"Like you and Sam?" Havers asked gently.

"That is…different."

Havers noticed how quickly the defences went up. "I notice that society in this time has far too many rules, too many ideas about how they think people should act. Love is the most common of human emotions, yet here is it controlled so much it might as well not exist. You can't be seen with a woman or man who isn't a relation or your spouse. You can't have a relationship with someone of the same sex, or with someone significantly older or younger than yourself."

"Are things so different where you come from?" Foyle asked, unperturbed by her words.

Havers smiled ruefully. "Perhaps not so much. Rules have been replaced with hatred at times. I'm not sure which is worse."

"But the general gist of your point is…follow your heart."

"Pretty much, yeah."

Foyle sat back in his chair. "Hmm."

In the kitchen, Sam and Lynley were making a small mess. "I didn't realise this was going to be so difficult," Lynley grumbled as he wrestled with the powdered milk.

Sam wasn't much help; she kept laughing. Eventually, though, they managed to warm the liquid and pour it into four mugs.

"So…you really think it's possible?" she asked quietly.

Lynley nodded. "But why, Sam? Why would you possibly want to go to the future? You seem to have a good life here, despite the war, and Christopher…." He paused. "Is he part of the problem?"

Sam, surprisingly, didn't blush or look embarrassed. "Our…relationship…."

"I understand," Lynley said quickly.

"Oh, good. Our relationship is…well, I think it's one of a kind. Unique. He's old enough to be my father and he is certainly more supportive of my choices than my father, and we've been through enough tight spots to…."

"You've grown close," Lynley supplied. "And when the war ends, you don't know what will happen."

"Yes, sir."

"Thomas, please," Lynley said. "And you think going to the future will be better?"

"Can it be any worse?" Sam asked.

Lynley opened his mouth to reply and realised he had no answer. "Come on, Sam," he said kindly. "Let's see is Christopher and Barbara are still awake."

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The possible use of every basic fanfic plot and cliché in this chapter is deliberate - it was so much fun to write. ;D

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

"So, Barbara," Lynley said as they sat down with their drinks, "You said you'd been thinking about how to get…well, back to the future."

Havers rolled her eyes. "Yes, sir, I have. I think, maybe, it could be as simple as recreating the circumstances we arrived here."

Lynley stared at her, his hand stopped halfway to his mouth. "You want to drop a building on us again?"

"Definitely on you. I think it would be therapeutic for me."

"That was uncalled for, Detective Sergeant."

Havers just shrugged. "Perhaps."

"So, erm, how exactly were you planning on testing this…theory?" Foyle asked, interrupting any further bickering.

"You found us in a building that had just been bombed, right?" Havers replied, and Foyle nodded. "Then all we have to do is wait for another raid and instead of running away, stay put."

Sam shook her head. "If you don't mind me saying so, Barbara, that is a crazy plan."

"I know, but so far, it's the only one we've got. I mean, we don't even know why we ended up going back in time in the first place."

"Does it have to be a, er, special building? Or in a special location?" Foyle asked, his tone mildly serious, but his eyes were sparkling with mischief.

"I was thinking of attaching a floodlit to your roof, actually, and using this building," Havers replied, smiling sweetly. "That way we can all go together."

Lynley laughed at Foyle's expression. "I did warn you what she was like, Christopher, though I know you didn't believe me. Are you sure you want to give her the option to stay?" he asked slyly.

"I'm sure she could be made suitably, ah, civilised with the right amount of patience," Foyle replied.

Lynley roared even louder at Havers' indignant expression, and Sam shook her head. "Really. You're both quite terrible, you know."

"We know," Lynley said. "And we're very sorry."

Foyle raised an eyebrow. "We?"

"Trust me," Lynley told him.

Foyle cast a wary glance at Havers. "Ah, yes, I think I will." He stood up slowly, his limbs stiff from sitting for so long. "I think we had better sort the sleeping arrangements out, don't you?"

"Sam can have my room," Lynley offered quickly. "I don't mind taking the couch for the night, or even the armchair."

Foyle shook his head. "No, you can have the spare room. I insist."

An hour later, everyone was washed and changed for bed, comfortable in their separate areas of the house. Well, not so comfortable in Lynley's case. He immediately saw why Foyle had been so adamant he take the spare room. It was cluttered beyond belief, but only because it was so small, and Lynley suspected much of the stuff in there was either Andrew's or Foyle's wife's. That made him think of Helen, and he realised he missed her, but, startlingly, not as much as he had done in previous months and not as much as he thought he should.

As Lynley lay staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the lumps in the thin mattress, he wondered what had made the memory of his dead wife lose its importance. Was it Havers' unwavering support of him, even though he pushed her away? Was it Sam's marred youthful outlook? Or was it Foyle's resolve, having experienced the same thing and clearly having moved on far better than Lynley had?

Then Havers' announcement came to mind. Lynley had been shocked, but he knew better than to try and talk her out of it. And the more he thought about it, the more Lynley wondered if he wanted to go back if Havers decided to stay. After all, there was nothing for him if she wasn't there….

The door to the spare room suddenly opened and the pale flickering light of a candle appeared. Lynley sat up, wondering who it was, and he was surprised to see the blonde head of Sam appear.

"Oh, bother." Her eyes widened when she saw Lynley staring back at her. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr Lynley," Sam said hurriedly. "I was looking for the bathroom. I'm afraid I don't know my way around Mr Foyle's house very well."

Lynley smiled. "It's the room next door."

"Thank you. Sorry if I disturbed you."

"It's quite alright, Sam," he assured her. "An easy mistake to make."

Sam smiled in embarrassment. "I suppose. Well, good night, sir."

"Good night, Sam," Lynley replied. He lay down and closed his eyes, willing himself to go to sleep, but a few minutes later, there was a knock on his door. "Yes?"

Sam entered looking uncomfortable. "I know that it's late, sir, but…well, could I talk to you?"

Lynley frowned a little and sat up again. "What about, Sam?"

"About…about where you come from, and what it's like," she said hurriedly. "I know you can't tell me a lot, but…well, do people act differently? Are things more acceptable?"

Lynley had a strong suspicion what Sam was referring to, but he thought it would be better to let her ask than for him to assume. "Why don't you come in and sit down?"

"Thank you."

Across the hall, Havers was tossing and turning, trying to fall asleep and failing miserably. The thoughts were going so fast around her head it was like they were motorbikes on a race track, and when she heard a quiet knock on the door, instead of being curious, Havers was grateful.

"Come in," she said in a low voice.

The door opened for a few seconds as someone entered the room, but Havers had seen enough of the outline to know who it was.

"I, er, thought you might want this," Foyle said as he stopped in the middle of the room, candle in one hand, thick blanket folded over his other arm. "I forgot to give it to you earlier. Sorry."

Havers smiled. That may or may not have been true but it didn't matter. All that Havers was interested in was the fact that someone cared about her enough to have remembered how cold she had been in previous nights. Even the fact someone cared about her warmed Havers through.

"That's alright," she said, sitting up. "Thank you for bringing it to me now."

Foyle hesitated before walking slowly forward and holding the blanket out. Havers smiled again, though this time a little embarrassed.

"Would you mind?" she asked, gestured at the bedcovers. "Only I'm a little…well, tied up. Here, I'll hold the candle.

Looking extremely uncomfortable, Foyle handed the candle over reluctantly, shook the blanket open and laid it very carefully on the top of the bedcovers. "There. How's that?" he said.

Havers nodded. "Perfect. At least I think so." She held the candle out to him and as soon as he took it, she snuggled down under the covers so only her face above her nose was showing. "Much better, thank you," came the very muffled reply.

Foyle smiled. "Good. Well, er, sleep well…Barbara."

"Good night…." Havers quickly bit her tongue. She had almost said 'Christopher', without meaning to.

Unfortunately, Foyle seemed to know what was going through her mind because a tense, albeit not uncomfortable, silence followed. "Barbara, I think we, er, need to talk."

Havers couldn't say she was surprised. With great reluctance, she re-emerged from the warmth of her covers and sat up. "I suppose we do."

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Sam sat on the end of Lynley's small bed fidgeting nervously, looking anywhere but at him. Normally such behaviour would have irritated Lynley, but in this case he knew it was unavoidable.

"Do you want to tell me what you wanted to talk about or should I just guess?" he asked after a while.

Sam looked up, and he was surprised to see a defiant expression on her face. "You can guess if you like, sir."

"But you don't think I'll get it right."

"You're going to lecture me about relationships, about how age doesn't matter, am I right?" Sam asked.

Lynley blinked in surprise. The woman before him constantly astounded him; the minute he thought he had her figured out, Sam would do or say something that would throw his previous view of her straight out of the window.

A sharp jolt of feeling shot through Lynley, shaking him like a crossbow wire, as he realised he was attracted to Sam.

"Why don't you tell me instead?" he suggested, trying to arrange his features into a friendly, even paternal, expression.

"Everyone always assumes that the future will be better. Is it really?" Sam asked suddenly. "I know you can't tell me much, but…the direction this country goes in…is it a good one?"

Lynley wondered if her use of 'good' instead of 'right' was deliberate or not. "Some things are definitely better, but others…perhaps not. We're changing at an accelerated rate; everybody wants the newest thing, and it has to be better than the one before."

"Like…a car?" Sam asked.

Lynley nodded. "A good enough example to use for now. Our society has grown…well, into a monster, one that is trying to devour itself. We're not happy with what we've got; we always want more."

"It feels like that here too, sometimes," Sam replied.

"Sam, it's not that I have any personal objection to you leaving this time period," Lynley started after a brief pause. "But I really think you should stay. The grass isn't always greener on the other side."

"I have no future here."

"What about the police?"

"They would never let me join," Sam stated firmly. "Things might be better for women now, but that is something that is a long way off yet."

"And Christopher?" Lynley asked gently.

Sam looked away, but not out of embarrassment. It seemed to Lynley more like thoughtfulness, or even sadness. "Mr Foyle has been awfully kind to me over the past few years, since I became his driver. I think…we're close. But I also think he would be glad to be rid of me at time. I'm an awful nuisance, always chattering, and I can clumsy. If I did leave, I would miss him, and I'd like to think he would miss me."

"I'm certain he would," Lynley assured her.

"But it isn't enough to live your life for someone else, is it?" Sam asked. "You need to live it for yourself."

Lynley stared at her for a long time before replying. "That is very true, Miss Stewart," he said, using her full name in an affectionate way. "I think that statement applies to both myself and Christopher; we're both still living for our dead wives rather than ourselves."

Sam blushed bright red and looked horrified. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean…. I didn't think…." She sighed in exasperation. "Now do you see what I mean?"

Lynley leant forward quickly and put a hand on her arm. "Sam, it's alright. I know you weren't trying to upset or insult me. It's alright," he repeated. "I actually think it's a very good description of what I know I definitely have been doing. I can't speak for Christopher, obviously, but I think he is guilty of the same thing."

"Which is?" Sam asked timidly.

"Hiding," Lynley replied. "We're both hiding. It's easier to stay with the memory of someone no longer with us than it is to move on. But the thing that scares us the most is…well it's the possibility that we…might just…love again. It might not be the same as when we were married; the feeling may be weaker or stronger, the latter more frightening than anything else. As a result, we push everyone away or keep them at arms length." He sighed. "At least that's what I've done with Havers."

"Yet she's still friends with you," Sam pointed out.

Lynley smiled ruefully. "I wouldn't quite put it like that."

Sam stared at him unblinkingly. "I would. I don't think Barbara really wants to stay here, I just think she wants to know that you care."

"I do care…."

"I'm not saying you don't, sir, but whether Barbara knows that or feels that way is a different matter."

Lynley stared back. "You are a very wise woman, Samantha Stewart, far wiser than one of your age should be."

Sam just shrugged. "It's the war. It changes people," she stated flatly before standing. "Good night, Mr Lynley."

"My name is Thomas, Sam, or Tommy, if you prefer. Please use it."

"Alright…Tommy. Good night."

Lynley smiled. "Good night, Sam."

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

"Can I speak first please?" Havers asked once Foyle was perched on the end of the bed.

Foyle nodded. "Of course."

"If I stay here, I'm not staying simply because of you," Havers said without preamble. "I'll admit that knowing someone might make life easier for me, but I'm under no illusion that I'm going to stay in this house with you. I wouldn't like to tarnish your reputation."

Foyle smiled. "Actually, I wasn't going to talk about that."

Havers looked slightly embarrassed. "Oh."

"I was going to say that you, er, can call me Christopher, if you like," Foyle replied. "It is my name, after all."

"I, er, well, er, right."

Foyle's smile grew. "Some might say that was a fair impression of myself."

Havers smiled back. "You must be having a bad effect on me."

"I think it's the other way around." Foyle looked away. "This is…difficult for me."

"You can always pretend this is just a dream," Havers said, her tone light but serious. "If you prefer."

"I don't think I would dream of anything like this," Foyle replied. "My thoughts are…."

"Private. You're not used to sharing them. And it's nothing to do with the era; it's just the way you are."

"Hmm."

The corners of Havers' mouth twitched. "That is a very…endearing noise, you know. I would say 'cute' but I think I'd offend you."

Foyle's eyebrows, however, had already shot up in shock. Then, after much deliberation, he simply replied, "Hmm."

Havers quickly covered her mouth so that the following bout of laughter sounded more like a wracking cough. "I thought you'd be glad to get rid of me," she managed to say after a while.

"Not really."

"Would…?" Havers shook her head. "Never mind."

"Tell me," Foyle said. "Please."

"I wouldn't like to offend you."

He could tell she was serious this time. "You won't."

"If I did stay - and your answer won't sway my decision - do you think…maybe we could…what's the term?" Havers frowned in thought. "Er, walk out?"

Foyle fixed her with a piercing gaze. "I think…anything is possible." He rose. "Good night, Barbara."

"I have one more question, Christopher," Havers said.

Foyle turned. "Yes?"

"Have you ever considered…walking out with Sam? I know how your neighbours would view the situation," she continued hurriedly. "But isn't yours and Sam's happiness more important?"

Foyle walked back to the bed and sat down again. "You're assuming a great deal."

"Maybe. But I'm a police officer. We're trained to notice things, you know."

"Indeed." Foyle picked a spot on the wall to stare at. "Let us consider this a hypothetical situation. *If* I had…feelings for Sam, I would certainly not consider how society would view me as a result. I would be concerned that she would be shunned and I would not wish that upon her. *If* such a situation arose, however, it would be Sam's choice to make, providing my feelings were reciprocated."

"Then why haven't you asked her?" Havers asked gently.

"She has been aged by the war," Foyle replied. "I will not let her be aged by me as well." He turned to look at her. "Sam is a dear girl, and I am quite fond of her, but…what you suggest just is not possible, if the feelings were there, of course."

"You just told me anything is possible, Christopher," Havers said with a hint of finality in her tone.

Foyle held her gaze for an indeterminable amount of time before inclining his head once. "What wise words you speak, Miss Havers. I will now bid you good night."

"Good night…Christopher."

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

As Foyle reached the bottom of the stairs, he heard faint noises in the kitchen and he tensed. Then he forced himself to relax, berating himself silently. He was so unused to having people in the house that his first thought was someone had broken in, not that it was probably one of his other guests.

Sure enough, as Foyle pushed the kitchen door open, he saw Sam bustling around the room.

"Can't sleep?" he asked quietly, making sure she wasn't holding anything breakable.

As it was, Sam's hands were empty but she still jumped. "You startled me, sir. I thought you were asleep."

"It seems to be a restless household this evening," Foyle replied.

"Yes, well…. I'm sorry, sir, I'll go straight to bed."

"No, Sam, I didn't mean…." Foyle sighed. "Is there enough for two?" he asked, gesturing to the pan on the stove.

Sam looked down at the milk. "I'm sure it would stretch, sir."

"Good. I thought that maybe we could, er, have a little chat."

"What about?" Sam asked in a worried tone.

"Let's go into the living room, shall we?"

Sam handed Foyle a mug of hot milk and followed him out of the kitchen, wondering what he wanted to discuss. She was surprised when he gestured for her to sit on the couch.

"This is difficult for me, Sam, so I would appreciate it if you let me finish before speaking," Foyle said after a while. He glanced at his companion and smiled when she just nodded, her lips closed tightly together. "I understand why you would want to leave all of this. I understand what war can do to you, how it can change you. And I want you to know that I'm not going to try and stop you from going. If that's what you want, I can only wish you the best of luck. And, well, I would miss you.

"But if you wanted to stay, I'm sure we could find you a job here in Hastings, if that's what you wanted. And, well, if that was what you wanted, you could…stay here…with me…until you found a place of your own…or maybe…as long…as you, er, wanted."

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Then Sam leant across and kissed Foyle briefly on the cheek. "Thank you," she said quietly, blushing crimson before rising and making her way back upstairs. Foyle watched her go and then, very slowly, touched the spot where her lips had touched him, an expression of surprise and wonder appearing on his face.

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Havers was finally drifting off to sleep when she heard another knock at her door. Groaning into her pillow, she said, "Come in," without any real enthusiasm.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Barbara, but this couldn't wait until morning," Lynley replied quietly, slipping into the room.

Havers sat up quickly. "Is something wrong, sir?"

"Not exactly." He gestured to the edge of the bed. "May I?"

"Sure."

"I just wanted to say that whatever decision you make regarding your…future, I will support," Lynley said, sitting down. "If you want to stay here, I understand, but I would…I would miss you, Havers. You're a pain in the arse at times, almost as much as I am, but I would miss you. You are a great partner to work with, and you've been a good friend to me when I needed one, and even when I didn't deserve it.

"And I know I haven't been a good friend to know. Maybe work and friendships don't mix, and we could never agree on everything, but I have been more harsh than necessary on you at times. And I'm sorry. I really do appreciate everything you've done for me in the past…well, the future." As Havers smiled, Lynley smiled back before continuing. "If you decide to come back 'home' with me, I promise I'll try to make it up to you. I can't promise it'll be roses all the time, but I'll try to be a better friend for you."

Havers hesitated before replying. "Thank you, sir."

Lynley nodded and stood up. "Well, good night, Barbara." He leant down and kissed her cheek before turning and heading across the room.

"Good night, Tommy," Havers called softly after him.

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Despite the lateness of the hour when everyone fell asleep the night before, they were all up early the following morning, although the atmosphere in Foyle's kitchen was somewhat subdued. The tense silence as they made their way slowly through breakfast was eventually broken by Lynley.

"I think Barbara and I should dress in our own clothes today," he said quietly.

Sam looked surprised. "Why?"

"Because there's no time like the present to try out Barbara's theory," Lynley replied. "It seems quite obvious that we can't stay in this…this holding pattern of avoidance forever. The sooner we see whether we *can* actually go back to our own time, the better, because if it doesn't work and we…we have to remain here, we need to settle in properly sooner rather than later."

Foyle nodded slowly in agreement. "Very well. But first Sam needs to go back to her lodgings to change. Then we need to go to the station so I can have a word with Sergeant Milner. And then…."

"What?" Havers interrupted. "We spend all day driving around, waiting for an attack?"

"We could always find an unexploded bomb, if you prefer," Sam retorted.

Lynley sighed. "Look, I realise that for you two, this is a difficult decision to make - do you stay or do you go? But turning your anxiety into frustration and then taking it out on each other, or Christopher and myself, won't change anything. And it wont' make you feel better," he said quickly before Havers could comment.

"You're right," she replied grudgingly. "Well, I suppose we'd better get on with it, then, hadn't we?"

Nothing more was spoken as Havers and Lynley went upstairs to change into the clothes they had arrived in, which had been laundered for them. After wearing period clothing, both found it strange to be donning 'normal' attire. Downstairs the atmosphere was no less tense; Sam had taken herself off to wait in the hallway, where she stood straight-backed, with her hands clasped behind her back. Unbeknownst to her, Foyle was stood exactly the same way in the living room, staring out of the window without actually seeing anything.

Far from making him feel better, last night's discussions had made his mind work overtime. He found himself wishing his 'visitors' had never appeared, but immediately Foyle berated himself for such thoughts. Both Havers and Lynley had opened his eyes to so much in such a short space of time, and although he was reluctant to say it out loud, Foyle was grateful to them. He had spent so much time - and rightly so, he had thought - mourning and remembering Rosalind that he had forgotten to live. Even Andrew couldn't bring a spark of life to Foyle; all he could see in his son was a man becoming addicted to war, a man who would be lost when it was all over.

Foyle had felt the same way when the First World War had ended, but at least he had some hope. Now there was the tiniest flicker of that hope reappearing for him, with one of the women in his house at that very moment; as friends or more, Foyle didn't know. As he stood thinking, he realised it didn't matter.

"We're ready," a voice said quietly from the doorway, and Foyle turned to see Havers stood there, Lynley at her shoulder.

Foyle felt an irrational surge of jealousy as he realised how good they looked together. Maybe he was just seeing their working partnership shining through; dressed in their own clothes, they certainly looked like a formidable duo. Or perhaps Foyle could see a chance at a working relationship; if that was the case, he wasn't sure Havers or Lynley had seen such an opportunity.

"Er, right," Foyle said, willing himself to move across the room. "Shall we?"

Havers and Lynley went out of the house first, Sam and Foyle following. When they reached the car, Havers turned round and saw Sam waiting for Foyle. When she saw the two of them together, she felt resentful of their closeness, completely unaware that her feelings were mirroring Foyle's.

The drive to Sam's lodgings was thankfully short as the silence in the car had grown oppressive. As soon as the Wolesley pulled up, Sam' landlady flew out of the house, a murderous expression on her face.

"Uhoh," Havers muttered quite unnecessarily.

"I'll handle this, Sam," Foyle said, getting out of the car with his driver.

At first, the landlady looked as though she was going to swing for Foyle, but the longer he spoke for, the more her expression softened until finally, she nodded and went back into the house. Sam glanced at Foyle in awe before following the landlady inside.

"No problems, then?" Lynley asked mildly as Foyle got back into the car.

The older man shook his head. "I didn't think there would be."

Fifteen minutes later, Sam reappeared in her uniform. "Sorry about the delay," she apologised as they set off to the police station. "I had to iron my blouse." She pulled a face as she spoke, causing Havers to smile; she too hated any form of housekeeping, including washing and ironing.

"You can wait in the car, I won't be long," Foyle said as they pulled up at the police station.

No one spoke. They all sat looking out of the windows of the Wolesley, each lost contemplating their own futures. But one thought was common amongst them; how were they going to achieve the feat of finding either an unexploded bomb or the location of an air strike?

When Foyle reappeared not ten minutes later, he looked deeply trouble. "Drive, Sam, please," he said when he got in the car.

She looked at him, frowning a little. "Where to, sir?"

"It doesn't matter for the moment, just away from here." Foyle waited until the car was in motion before turning his seat. "Sergeant Milner has just informed me of a, er, most fortuitous incident."

"I don't like the sound of that," Havers muttered, and Lynley nodded slightly in agreement.

"Sam, would you take us to where we found Mr Lynley and Miss Havers, please?" Foyle asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Why are we going back there? I thought the building was demolished by an air strike," Lynley said.

"It was. The entire side of the street, actually," Foyle replied. "But the other side remained relatively unscathed and…. Well, it seems there might be an unexploded bomb there."

Both Havers and Lynley exclaimed, simultaneously, "What?"

"I know, the chances of that happening are…."

"A million to one, sir?" Sam supplied.

Foyle looked at her and smiled slightly. "Yes, Sam. Thank you."

"Any time, sir."

"And how do you know this?" Havers asked.

"Sergeant Milner heard a rumour," Foyle replied. "But no one has bothered to check it out yet." At Havers and Lynley's shocked expressions, he continued quickly. "The area is deserted. Unexploded bombs near schools and inhabited residences are of greater importance."

No one said anything; there didn't seem any reply to a statement like that. They all remained quiet until they felt the car slow down, and then Sam announced, "We're here."

It seemed no one wanted to move, but when Havers opened the door, the others followed suit, and soon the four of them were stood in an empty street.

"So where is it?" Lynley asked.

Foyle looked around. "I don't know."

"We should split up," Havers suggested. "Search the houses individually and shout when we find something."

"There's no need, Barbara," Sam said in a hushed voice. "It's there."

They all looked in the direction she was pointing and sure enough, gleaming in the pale sun, was the casing of a bomb, sat in the living room of a house like an unwanted visitor.

"Er, what do we do now?" Foyle wondered out loud.

"Detonate the bomb and hope it doesn't kill us," Havers replied dryly.

Lynley started walking forward. "I should go in first, make sure it's safe."

Havers stared at him before starting to laugh. "Who said posh people don't have a sense of humour?" she said, and Lynley shot her a reproving look. "Come on, sir. We don't *want* it to be safe, do we?"

Slowly, carefully, the four of them inched their way inside. "I'm not sure about this," Sam muttered.

"Neither am I," Foyle replied.

"Well, maybe…."

The others never knew what Havers was going to suggest. A tremor shook the ground slightly, the sound of a far off alert reaching their ears coupled with blast noises, and the room in a massive, deafening explosion.

TBC


	19. 1st Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...as I couldn't decide at the time of writing how I wanted this story to end, I did three endings to cover the possibilities I could see. This is the 1st and is fairly canon with the very last episodes of both Foyle's War and Inspector Lynley. The FIN/TBC at the end indicates that it's the end of this…ending, but not the end of the story as there are two more alternate endings to come.

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Havers groaned and opened her eyes, blinking rapidly several times as they filled with dust. She tried to move and found there was no part of her that didn't hurt, so she groaned some more, louder this time.

*'What the hell happened?'* she thought as she tried to remember.

Then she heard a noise close by, a man grunting as he regained consciousness. "Ouch."

"Who's there?"

"Havers?" Lynley said quietly.

For a moment Havers couldn't understand why she felt a bitter rush of disappointment, but then everything came flooding back. "Are we alone?" she asked.

Lynley opened his eyes and tried to look around. "I think so. Hello?" he shouted, but there was no reply. "Hello!"

"Wait, I can hear voices!" Havers exclaimed, not bothering to hide her joy.

Unfortunately the feeling vanished the light above illuminated a face. "Are you alright down there? Can you move?"

It wasn't Foyle. In fact, judging by the uniforms of the men who were helping them out of the rubble, they weren't in 1940s Hastings any more; they were back in London. Havers tried to be happy about it, but failed miserably, something Lynley noticed as they were taken to hospital.

Several hours of tests and questions didn't improve their mood either, and by the time they both left the hospital, Havers and Lynley were back to sniping at each other. It seemed a minor earthquake had caused an old, unexploded WW2 bomb to…well, explode. The doctors said that Havers and Lynley were lucky not to have sustained more serious injuries. The thing that neither of them could quite get their head around was the fact they hadn't been missing in their own time at all; it was like the events of the past week while in Hastings had taken place in seconds.

Other than the bomb, there was no explanation why they had been thrown back in time, or indeed why they reappeared when they did. The only time Havers and Lynley spoke was to agree it was just 'one of those things' and leave it at that.

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

The weeks ticked by and soon there was another case for Lynley and Havers to work on. They had hardly spoken since they returned to their own time, though it wasn't for lack of trying; it just seemed that neither of them had anything to say. Reminiscing about Foyle and Sam was surprisingly painful for both of them, and they had reached an unspoken agreement to simply not talk about it.

That morning Havers and Lynley went to talk to someone about the case, and as they stood at the front door, waiting for it to be answered, they carefully avoided each other's gaze.

"Hello, can I help you?" a woman asked.

"Yes, I'm…." Lynley trailed off, shocked.

"Sam?" Havers exclaimed without thinking.

The woman frowned. "I'm sorry, I think you've got the wrong house."

"I'm sorry," Lynley replied, smiling. "You remind my colleague of someone else, that's all." And indeed she had. Except for the long red hair and modern clothing, the woman stood before them could easily have been Sam Stewart. "I'm Detective Inspector Lynley, this is Detective Sergeant Havers. Are you Mrs Tania Thompson?"

The woman nodded. "I spoke with you on the phone, didn't I?" she asked, and Lynley inclined his head. "You'd better come in."

Lynley gave Havers a warning glare as they entered the house, but as soon as they sat down, she ignored him as usual and launched into speech. "I'm sorry, Mrs Thompson, but you look very familiar. My grandmother has shown me photos of friends she used to know, and one of them…. Well, you could be her spitting image."

Tania nodded disinterestedly. "What was this friend's name?"

"Samantha Stewart," Havers replied, still ignoring Lynley.

Tania's eyes widened slightly. "That was my great aunt's maiden name."

Hope flared in Havers; maybe someone had got a happy ending after all. "Did she marry a man named Foyle?"

"Yes, she did," Tania replied, smiling now. "Well, this is certainly a coincidence."

"Isn't it just?" Lynley muttered somewhat sourly.

Havers still ignored him. "Are they still alive, your great aunt and uncle?"

"Sadly not."

"I didn't think they would be," Havers replied, then looked as though she was reminiscing. "My grandmother used to talk for hours about Sam and Christopher, said they made the most adorable couple she had ever known. I hope you don't mind me saying, but you really do look so much like Sam."

But Havers knew she had said something wrong because Tania's expression suddenly turned cold. "My great uncle was Andrew; Christopher was his father, I believe."

Havers recovered quickly from the shock. "I'm sorry, my grandmother's memory isn't as good as it used to be. For some reason she thought Sam had married Christopher."

"No, it was Andrew she married," Tania replied, smiling once more. "Now, how can I help you?"

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

The atmosphere as they drove back to the station was hostile, and Havers wasn't altogether surprised when they stopped on a quiet street.

"You were out of order back there, Sergeant, I hope you realise that," Lynley said quietly.

Havers looked at him. "Why? Because I thought she was Sam? So did you. And besides, she is related."

"But she isn't Sam."

"I'm not stupid!" Havers retorted, her temper flaring.

"I never said you were," Lynley said in an attempt to pacify her.

"You don't have to, *sir*," she replied. "The tone of voice you use is enough."

"That's enough, Havers," he snapped. "What is the matter with you? I thought…well, I thought…."

"What, exactly, sir? You thought what?"

"I thought that we'd reached some sort of understanding during our last night in Hastings."

After a long time, Havers finally replied. "You thought wrong." She looked at him, her expression somewhat haunted. "You can't change things so easily, Tommy," she told him. "I didn't want to come back, I wished with all my heart I could stay there, but obviously it wasn't meant to be. Now the more time I spend here, the more I find I loath it."

"And me?" Lynley asked, surprised his voice wasn't breaking.

"Not enough."

Silence descended again, and when it was broken, Havers knew things would never be the same between herself and Lynley. "In that case, Sergeant, we should get back to the station." He started to drive off. "And if there are any more outbursts like that from you, I'll have you back in uniform before you can blink, understood? I want your conduct to be professional at all times."

"Yes, sir," Havers replied through gritted teeth, wondering if the day could get any worse.

And then it started to rain.

FIN/TBC


	20. 2nd Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second alternate ending - maybe a little happier than the first one! And yes, a little repetitive. Variations on a theme and all that…. :)

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Lynley opened his eyes and gasped as though his lungs had been starved of oxygen for minutes, but immediately he regretted his action as he inhaled massive amounts of dust. Coughing and spluttering, Lynley tried to move and was surprised to find he could not only sit up, but stand as well.

"Havers? Havers!" he shouted, looking around at the rubble. In the distance he could hear sirens and Lynley knew it was only a matter of time before the police and fire brigade turned up. Before that happened, he had to find out if he was alone or not; if he wasn't, he needed to know who had come back with him.

The minute Lynley had opened his eyes, he had remembered everything that had happened to him in the past and he also remembered Foyle and Sam, as well as Havers, had been in the building when the bomb exploded.

Lynley's head suddenly snapped to the right; he had heard a noise, and it sounded like a groan. "Havers!" he shouted, making his way over to the pile of rubble the sound was coming from and starting to dig. But as he uncovered the body, he saw a flash of blonde hair and a bit of olive-green clothing. "Sam?"

"Ooo, that hurt," Sam said groggily, sitting up. "Mr Lynley?"

He smiled. "It's me."

"Where's Mr Foyle? And Barbara?" Sam asked, her eyes widening as they came into focus.

Lynley sighed heavily and hung his head as he hunkered down next to her. "I don't think they're here, Sam."

"Where exactly is 'here', sir?"

"I would say we're back in my time."

Sam's eyes widened even more; Lynley didn't know how she did it. "You mean…I've gone forward in time?"

"I would guess so, yes. Sam, listen to me, this is very important. In a minute, police- and firemen will be here, wanting to know what's going on. I want you to remain very quiet and let me do the talking, alright?"

Sam nodded. "I understand."

At that moment, two police cars and a fire engine came screeching to a halt. Lynley quickly showed them his ID and explained he was taking his cousin to a fancy dress party, the theme being WW2.

No one questioned this story. When a medic asked if Sam was alright, Lynley nodded slightly for her to answer, and as soon as she spoke, the police officers were convinced she must have been related to Lynley; no one else they knew talked in such clipped tones.

Several hours later, Sam and Lynley emerged from hospital with only a few cuts and bruises to show. All in all, they had been extremely lucky; the unexploded WW2 bomb that had been set off by a train didn't contain as much explosive material as it could have done, and they were a significant distance from the blast site as well.

"So, erm, what now?" Sam asked timidly, her eyes moving all the time.

"I think the first thing we need to do is sleep," Lynley replied, his heart heavy. "You can stay at mine tonight and tomorrow I'll take you shopping. You'll need some other clothes."

"Perhaps…." Sam bit her lip.

"Go on."

"Perhaps, just until I get my own clothes, I can borrow some of Barbara's? I'm sure she won't mind."

"She won't know," Lynley replied quietly."

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Over the following few weeks, what Lynley found most agonising was that nobody missed Havers except for him. She had been labelled as a missing person, but that was it. No one knew where she could have gone or why she had disappeared; the other officers frequently looked to Lynley for guidance he had known her the best. But when it became clear he hadn't a clue where Havers was, the others gave up.

On the other hand, Sam had a remarkable aptitude for adapting. She studied almost constantly, learning all she could about what had happened in the past sixty years, and Lynley spent every evening discussing things with her.

The subject of their living arrangements wasn't discussed; Lynley didn't feel it was necessary. He knew when Sam was ready, she would leave; he couldn't expect her to stay and in a way, he didn't want her to. Whatever spark may have been between them in the past, in WW2, in Hastings, had been extinguished when they jumped back forward. Lynley was happy to have Sam's company, though; she made his life feel less lonely, and while she could never fill the gap left by Havers, it was always smaller when Sam was around.

They also never discussed how Sam had ended up going forward while Havers remained behind. It was just 'one of those things' and would always remain so; talking about it gave them both a terrible headache.

One afternoon they were discussing the police force. Sam still wanted to join but she couldn't decide whether uniform or CID would be best for her. Lynley advised her as best he could, but at times he could do nothing but laugh as she came out with the most inappropriate suggestions without realising it.

When there was a knock on the door, Sam announced she would get it, scowling at Lynley and hitting him on the arm as she passed him. A minute later, she reappeared wearing a frown, a gentleman not much older than her following.

"Tommy, this is Mr Jake Fielding. He wants to talk to us," Sam said.

Lynley stood up and shook hands with the stranger. "Mr Fielding. What can we do for you?"

"Jake, please. Are you Thomas Lynley?" he asked.

Lynley nodded. "Would you like to see some ID?"

"Please."

As Lynley went to get his ID card, Sam told Jake to make himself at home. "Would you like a drink?"

"Not just yet, thank you," Jake replied.

"Are you alright?"

Jake gave her a tight grin. "I'll explain in a minute."

"Here you go," Lynley said, handing Jake his warrant card.

The younger man stared at it for a long time before handing it back. "Thank you. I'm sorry if this all seems strange to you but…. Well I have a letter for you. It was handed down from my great grandparents to my grandparents," Jake started to explain. "Only my great grandparents died some years ago - how could they know you?"

Lynley and Sam exchanged glances. "Were your great grandparents' names Christopher and Barbara?"

Jake looked shocked. "How do you know that?"

"It's a family tradition, between your great grandparents and mine," Sam said suddenly. "There's a lot of trickery involved, Jake. Tell me, when did your grandmother die?"

"A few months ago. I came across this letter when I was going through her belongings." Comprehension dawned on his face. "She knew who you were, from my great grandparents, and then just added your names."

Sam smiled. "Exactly. I thought the silly tradition had fallen into disuse, but there we go."

"So, what's in the letter? If I can ask," Jake said.

"Usually a treasure hunt," Sam replied, "Leading to something stupid like an old photo or another letter. Terribly boring."

"You haven't mentioned your parents," Lynley said quietly.

Jake looked away. "They died when I was young. I was raised by my grandmother mostly, as my grandfather died about two years after my parents."

Sam looked truly sympathetic. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. My gran was actually pretty cool."

Lynley smiled. "So did you know your great grandparents?"

"They're not actually my great grandparents," Jake said. "You see my grandmother was a war orphan, taken in by Christopher and Barbara. Believe it or not, that's how she met my granddad; he was an orphan too. Then they got married, had my dad, who got married and had me." He held out an envelope. "I believe this is yours."

Sam took it gingerly. "Thank you."

Jake smiled. "I'll leave you to read it in peace," he said as he stood. "Were our families close then?"

Lynley smiled back. "Very. It was nice to meet you, Jake."

"And you both. Bye!"

They waved him from the doorway before looking at each other. "It can't be," Sam murmured. "Can it?"

"I'm not an expert on time travel, you know," Lynley replied, amused.

"I suppose we'd better read it."

"I'll make us a drink."

Sam sat in the kitchen and opened the enveloped while Lynley bustled about with the kettle and teapot. "Oh my…." Sam looked up. "It really is from them. I recognise Mr Foyle's signature at the bottom."

Lynley peered over at the letter. "And that's Havers' handwriting. Okay, let's hear when they have to say."

Sam straightened the paper and began reading….

*"'Dear Tommy and Sam,  
We know it's a long shot this letter will reach you, but we have to try. That's right, we. When the building collapsed on us - incidentally, did you hurt yourself,* sir?'"

"Cheek," Lynley muttered darkly, but Sam noticed he was smiling as she continued.

*"'When the building collapsed on us, I think I blacked out because the next thing I knew, Christopher was shaking me awake. For a moment I thought that we were all going to be stuck here together - wouldn't that have been fun? But then I saw the look in his eyes, and I knew it was just him and me. Sam, I hope you're there because I have a message from Christopher. He says that he misses you greatly, but he hopes you're happy and that you achieve your dream of becoming a policewoman. He thinks you'll be a great asset to the police force.

'Tommy, I want to apologise for the way things ended up between us. I know you were my boss and that I should have shown you more respect, but I was thinking more of our friendship. I've been trying to understand how it went wrong, and I think I know why. We simply avoided it. We couldn't admit we cared about each other as friends because we both thought it would damage out working relationship. As it was, not admitting it did the damage.

'If you're wondering about the delivery of this letter, I assume it was hand delivered by someone with the surname Fielding. Obviously I don't know exactly who, but I imagine it was a shock for them to find a letter with your names on it. Maybe I should explain.

'Christopher and I are living together and we are married. He has retired from the police and I do a little teaching - don't you *dare* laugh, Tommy! That was how we ended up taking in orphan children, really. Neither of us wanted to commit to having our own family, but we wanted to help with the war. Sam, I truly appreciate how difficult war was for you, but surprisingly, I'm enjoying myself here. I think I'm finally happy.

'Anyway, there were too many children without homes or families when the war ended; it was heartbreaking to see them all. So Christopher and I agreed to be a halfway house, though it didn't exactly turn out like that. Some children stayed on permanently - we ended up building the house next door just to accommodate them - while others stayed for a short while until another family could be found. Susan Jones and James Fielding were the two most well mannered, pleasant children we had; we entrusted the safe keeping of this letter to them.

'There isn't much else to say except that we always think of you both and wish we had more time together, but obviously this was the way things were meant to be. Be happy, Sam, and you too, Tommy.

'Love to you both,

Barbara and Christopher

'PS - Paul Milner was promoted to Inspector when the war ended, and rose to Chief Superintendent before he retired. He and his wife had three children in the end; he named his youngest daughter Samantha.'"*

There was also a slip of paper that held details of a trust fund Havers and Foyle had set up for Sam; Lynley obviously didn't need it. It meant Sam was mildly wealthy, capable of complete independence until she decided what to do with the rest of her life. The minute she learnt that, she made a snap decision.

For a long while, neither of them spoke. Lynley turned away discreetly as Sam mopped her eyes, but it was only so he could wipe away his own tears. Eventually, he broke the silence.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that. Were you?" he asked in mild voice.

Sam gave a watery giggle. "No, I wasn't." She suddenly looked awkward. "Tommy, there's something I want to talk to you about."

"You want to move out."

Sam looked mildly surprised. "Yes."

"I've been waiting for it to happen," Lynley said, ignoring the sinking feeling in his chest.

"Well, you've been fantastic, but I can't stay here. I'll be better on my own."

"I understand. Where will you go?"

Sam suddenly grinned broadly, her eyes sparkling with devilment. "The apartment next door is empty. I was thinking there. That's if you don't mind having me as your next door neighbour?"

Lynley tried to suppress a grin and failed. "I suppose I'll have to cope, won't I?"

FIN/TBC


	21. 3rd Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last and final ending. I like this one. :)

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

Lynley awoke slowly to the sounds of people talking and bustling about. For a moment he kept his eyes shut, wondering where he was, but then he heard someone verbally bashing Tony Blair and knew he was in the right time. Carefully, Lynley opened his eyes and looked around.

"Finally, you found your way back to the land of the living. I thought you were going to sleep until next year."

The sound of Havers' playful jibe made Lynley's heart feel light and he tried to smile, thankful his face didn't hurt. "You must have been telling me a story, Havers," he replied, focussing on her.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I see you're no worse for wear. The doctors will be happy."

"What happened?" Lynley asked, struggling to sit up. Havers moved to help him and he tried not to give into the impulse he felt to kiss her.

"Well, a building fell on us apparently," she replied straight-faced. "Unexploded WW2 bomb that decided to go off when we got near it. Apparently we were lucky. Well, I was. You, er, suffered a head injury, sir."

Lynley raised an eyebrow. "Did you hit me by any chance?"

"No, sir," Havers replied with a smile. "I didn't get chance."

Lynley tried to look disapproving but only succeeded in looking mildly amused. "Was…was anyone else injured in the blast?" he asked.

Havers shook her head. "They only found us."

Both knew what that meant and for a moment they were silent, lost in their own thoughts. But then slowly, Lynley reached out to Havers' hand and when she didn't move away, he took hold of one of her fingers with one of his.

"I'm sorry. I've acted stupidly and I know it, but it's only because…well, I care about you. In fact, apart from Helen, I've never cared about anybody more."

A silence descended over the pair again, but it wasn't awkward. "You have a funny way of showing it," Havers said eventually, taking hold of another of his fingers. A full hand would have been too much too soon. "Simply saying something along those lines instead of shouting at me all the time would have helped."

Lynley tried to glare at her but it didn't work. Instead, a lop-sided smile appeared on his face, reminding Havers very much of Mr Foyle. Sam was indeed one lucky woman to be waking up to that every morning - at least Havers hoped the two of them had sorted themselves out and had the courage to overcome the stigmas of the era regarding such an age difference in relationships.

Although Havers knew Sam thought *she* would be a lucky woman getting to wake up next to Lynley every day, if such a thing ever came to pass.

"Are you still with us, Barbara?" Lynley asked, clearly amused, and Havers realised he had been talking to her.

Blushing, and without really thinking, she took hold of his hand properly. "Sorry, I was just thinking about Christopher and Sam. I hope they make things work."

"I don't think it will be easy for them," Lynley said.

"Nothing worthwhile ever is, is it?" Havers replied, smiling slightly.

"Barbara, there's something I want to tell you, but I'm not sure what you'll make of it," Lynley said hesitantly after a while.

"You'll never know unless you try, Tommy."

He nodded, but didn't smile. "I-I haven't always been as…as easy on you as I *could* have been or as I *should* have been, and a lot of the time, that was down to me, not you." He sighed, knowing he wasn't telling her anything new but still he felt the need to explain himself. "The first time we met, I felt…something towards you, but the 'class' difference was stark to me. Plus there was our growing working relationship to consider. So many times, I wanted to ask you out for a drink, but even when I did, you declined my offer.

"And then Helen reappeared on the scene, so to speak, permanently," Lynley continued. "There had always been an attraction between us, and suddenly getting married to her seemed like a good idea. But almost immediately I knew I had made the wrong decision. It turned out that the love we once shared had gone, and in its place was…a coldness."

Havers squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, Tommy."

"When Helen announced she was pregnant, I was overjoyed but I could see it in her face that she wasn't," Lynley continued, acknowledging Havers' comment with a nod of his head. "Then she lost it, and for her, it was a perfect excuse to end out marriage. She went away and I thought that was that. But then Helen came back and…." He sighed and ran a hand over his hair. "She'd changed so much. We found that connection again, the one we had when we were much younger. We'd decided to give it another go when she was shot.

"The point of all this, Barbara, is that throughout my relationship with Helen, all I could think about at times was you," Lynley said quietly. "Whenever we argued, or she gave me the cold shoulder, my thoughts turned to you. I wondered what you were doing, or who you were with. Helen had always been jealous of my relationship with you, and that didn't help. But after we lost the baby…when she came back, she had lost that inhibition about you. I could see Helen was making an effort to befriend you because she knew how much you meant to me."

Havers looked at him, her expression confused. "O-kay."

Lynley smiled ruefully. "I'm not doing a good job of explaining, am I?"

"I couldn't say, since I don't know what it is you're trying to explain."

"After Helen's death, I pushed you away because I knew I could come to rely on you so easily," he continued, looking away from Havers but not relinquishing her hand. "I *wanted* you to be there for me, but I felt like I was being disloyal to Helen. I hoped that if I pushed you away enough, you would give up on me."

"You can't get rid of me that easily, Tommy," Havers said, smiling. "You should know that by now."

"I do, but I don't know why you're so relentless."

She sighed. "I care about you. I always have. When I first me you, I fancied the pants off you, to be quite honest. But as you've just pointed out, we were literally worlds apart, and there was work to consider. At times, yeah, I did dislike you greatly; on occasion, I hated you. But underneath everything, that initial crush stayed, matured, and grew into…well, into something else. You'd become my best friend, and I wasn't sure how it had happened. Sometimes you acted like you felt the same way, other times…it was like you didn't care about hurting me at all." Havers shook her head. "There are easier ways to push people away, you know, without trampling all over their feelings."

"Sometimes, Havers, I envy you," Lynley said lightly. "I've been trying so hard to say what you've just put into a few words."

"That's posh upbringing for you, sir," Havers replied smugly. "Always talking more than you need to."

"Actions speak louder than words?"

"A picture is supposed to be worth a thousand of them."

Slowly and carefully, Lynley lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of Havers'. "In one way or another, Barbara, I've always loved you. I'm just not very good at showing it or expressing it. All to do with that stuffy upbringing you keep reminding me about."

"And you think I feel the same way about you?" Havers asked.

"I hope so, but if you don't, I hope it doesn't affect our friendship," Lynley replied.

Havers' expression revealed nothing. "Ever the gentleman."

"I do try."

"You're very trying," she admitted, then sighed and shook her head. "This chair's uncomfortable. Budge up a little."

Lynley's eyes widened but he did as she asked, surprised when she sat on the bed next to him even though he knew it was going to happen. Without hesitation, Havers laid her head against his shoulder and took hold of his hand again.

"None of this class crap," she told him firmly. "We're equals, or there's no deal. Work has to carry on as normal, of course, but don't think we won't argue out of work as well."

"I'd worry if we didn't," Lynley replied lightly, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

FW-ILM-FW-ILM-FW-ILM

The following few weeks were far from joy filled as work kept intruding on their bubble of happiness, but Lynley and Havers didn't mind. They found the normality more refreshing, and were often seen arguing more heatedly than ever at work.

But as soon as they left the station, a transformation occurred with both of them. They were more relaxed, laughing and talking with each other, even acting childish at times. They kept separate houses, but divided their time up between them with occasional nights when they didn't see each other.

One particular night they were at Havers' flat, watching some detective programme on the television and laughing loudly at how ludicrous it was.

"That's rubbish!" Havers exclaimed for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

"I'm rather enjoying it," Lynley replied with a smile.

Before Havers could retort, there was a knock at the door. "Go and answer that," she ordered. "And if it's the neighbours complaining about the noise, tell them to get stuffed!"

Lynley shook his head as he stood up. "You're just a lovely person, Barbara. Real ray of sunshine." He opened the door, revealing a young woman who looked vaguely familiar. "Yes?"

"Are you Mr Thomas Lynley?" she asked.

Havers was off the couch and at his side in a flash. As she and Lynley looked at each other, she knew they were thinking the same thing; nobody where Havers lived knew who he was.

Then the woman looked at Havers. "And you must be Miss Barbara Havers. I have a letter for you both, from my grandparents," she said matter-of-factly. "I know this won't sound strange to you, though it might come as a surprise."

"Yes, it is," Lynley replied. "Won't you come in?"

The woman shook her head. "No, thank you. I know all about you both, of course. It was one of my favourite stories that my grandmother would tell me. I never really believed it, of course, but I always felt there was some truth in it and…well, here you are stood before me."

"And now?" Havers asked.

"I think some things are better left unexplained," the woman replied. "I know my mother never believed the stories my grandparents would tell about the war, like the one about anthrax poisoning, but I know that Grandpa would never lie. He was a lovely man."

"Yes, he was," Havers said softly. "When…when did he…?"

"A long time ago," the woman replied. "Well, close to thirty years now, but I remember him clearly."

Lynley knew he shouldn't have been shocked, but he was. "And your grandmother?"

The woman smiled. "She lasted a little longer, but probably because she was a great deal younger than Grandpa, as you know. She would tell me tall tales and I knew they were made up, but amongst those stories, Grandma would throw in some truth."

"Like meeting us," Havers said.

"Like meeting you," the woman repeated, nodding. "And here is your letter. Don't worry, nobody but myself knows about this. My younger brother and sister didn't believe Grandma's tales either, but I at least showed an open mind, which is why she gave me this." The woman pressed an envelope into Havers' hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, and thank you," Lynley said as Havers seemed to have lost the ability to speak. He closed the door and ushered her back inside. "Do you want me to open it?"

Havers shook her head and sitting back on the couch, ripped the envelope open and withdrew a letter. "It's addressed to us both," she told him before she started reading….

*"'Dear Barbara and Tho-Tommy,

'First let me say I hope this letter reaches you. I understand the odds of it travelling, intact, sixty years into the future are slim, but both Sam and I feel we have to try. As I am writing this, more than a year has passed since you left us. The war is now over, my son is back in Hastings permanently, I have retired, and Sam is looking to carry on as a driver in the police force. She was going to apply to join the police, but…well, we recently discovered something. It was a shock, certainly, but a joyful piece of news as well, I think: Sam is to have a baby.

'Although you never met my son, I know I mentioned him, but what I didn't say was that he and Sam had walked out before, and I knew when the war ended, he would want to rekindle the relationship. I did not look forward to telling him that Sam and I were…together, but to my pleasant surprise, Andrew took it all in his stride. Even consented to be best man at our wedding.

'What sealed it for me was when Andrew said that his mother, Rosalind, would have approved, but it was you, Barbara, that made me see clearly the last night you were here. For that, I will be eternally grateful.

'We have no idea, of course, if you both survived the trip back to your own time, or even if you are still friends. Sam and I can only hope that things worked out for you.

'We will entrust this letter to our child, to pass on to their children in the hope that it will reach you.

'Though you were only in our lives briefly, neither Sam nor I have ever forgotten either of you, and we both owe you thanks for giving us the strength of mind to be honest not only with each other, but ourselves as well.

'Best regards, and love,

Sam and Christopher

'PS - Sam made me write 'Tommy', hence the mistake at the start of the letter. And 'love' at the end was her idea as well. I think she's channelling Barbara's spirit….'"*

"I'd say things worked out alright for them, wouldn't you agree, Barbara?" Lynley said after a while, his tone mild though laced with happiness for their friends.

Havers nodded and put the letter on the table. "Do you know what I think?"

"No, but you're going to tell me," he replied with a smile.

"I think having a building drop on us was the best thing that ever happened," she said, leaning forward to kiss him.

FIN


End file.
